To Meddle in Death's Affairs
by drakangrl9
Summary: When MiM brings Jack back to life, he unwittingly leaves Jack bound to the realm of the dead and Death himself. When Moon abandons Jack, Death takes him under his wing. When Jack is asked to join the Guardians, he isn't interested. But Pitch won't be ignored, and Jack must contend with the Boogeyman, an errant necromancer, and a secret his family has kept from him for centuries.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians or the cover image for this story. Credit for the cover goes to artist Elaine Elder.  
**

 **Chapter 1:**

Death really hated it when the Man in the Moon interfered with his job. Granted the Lunanoff Prince personally hadn't done so before, but people meddling in his affairs rarely ended well.

Death watched as the Moon's newborn spirit settled back to the surface of the frozen pond, the cracks in the ice freezing the instant his feet made contact. The Reaper idly fingered the hourglass that hung in the pendant around his neck.

Jackson Overland, Death mused, had been young. Granted humans didn't last that long to begin with, but the ones Jackson's age usually did fairly well for themselves. Then again you never knew; Jackson himself was proof of that.

He wasn't surprised the boy had died the way he had. Despite his love of tricks and mischief in general, Jackson's protective nature wouldn't allow him to hurt any of the younger children who were often on the receiving end of his jokes. He certainly wouldn't stand by and allow his little sister to come to harm; she meant the world to him. The boy had been scared, that was undeniable. Drowning was a slow way to die. The ice, at least, had sped things up a bit, and Jackson had been unconscious when his lungs had stopped working. Despite the fear, though, his last conscious thought had been _at least she's safe._ Rare, for a child so young to think of another in such a way with the knowledge of their own impending death.

Which was undoubtedly why the Moon had chosen him.

And a _frost spirit!_ Death knew the Man in the Moon had never changed one of the dead before. Souls of the living and the dead were not the same; while they remained in the living world, the dead were more ethereal, difficult to sense for those who weren't Reapers or necromancers. They were even more difficult to manipulate; Death himself was the only one who could do so with any level of ease. The Man in the Moon had had no idea what he was getting himself into. The circumstances of Jack's death would have left marks on his soul that would have lingered until Death or one of the lesser Reapers came and helped the boy pass on. Given the Moon's lack of experience, and probably lack of ability, in transforming a dead soul, a frost spirit was probably the only thing he could have managed.

Either that or Tsar Lunar had a really twisted sense of humor.

The boy was in the process of creating whorls of fern-like frost on the trees with his staff. Death continued to watch as Jackson- _Jack Frost_ , as the moon had named him- repeated the process on the surface of the lake.

If he'd had a face on which to put the expression, Death's brow would have furrowed. Jack's enthusiasm, his curiosity, was childlike. The boy was still a child, but the way he was excited about absolutely _everything_ , looking at the stars, the trees, the frozen lake, his sheppard's crook as though he'd never seen them before, was too much like a toddler learning their first steps in the outside world.

 _He doesn't remember._ A little bit of amnesia wasn't unusual. Most of the spirits Death and his Reapers assisted experienced some degree of memory loss, but it was unheard of that one so newly dead would have it to the degree Jack seemed to. Another result of the Moon's inept resurrection, perhaps?

A playful cry from the Wind brought Death out of his musings. He was surprised when she scooped the boy up, the frost sprite reacting with a startled, yet joyful, shout. That was certainly unusual; the Wind hadn't responded to anyone this way since Gaia's disappearance.

Jack laughed from above. The Wind's joy bent the tops of the nearby trees. Unfortunately she forgot about her new playmate in her excitement and dropped the boy, who gave another startled shout. The Wind rushed to catch him again; she didn't quite succeed, but she managed to slow his fall.

Death chuckled, a sound like sand blowing across a road. Those two were certainly a good match.

A quiet whicker had him turning away from the frozen pond, walking back into the trees to greet his horse. The steed raised his head as his rider approached and Death obligingly stroked the pale nose. Pleased, the horse shook his head, then observed his master out of one eye. Death recognized the question in the look and gathered up the reins, pulling himself into the saddle in answer.

There was nothing for him to do here. There was no soul needing guidance into the afterlife, no soul to assist in leaving its body, and he was behind as it was; Famine had requested help in France a while ago.

Then _why_ was he still feeling the incessant pull he always felt when a newly dead soul needed him? Jack Frost had been given new life; he was no longer Death's concern.

Unless…

Oh, _no_.

Death quickly reined his horse around, his irritation at the Moon morphing into true anger as he kicked his steed into a gallop toward the town of Burgess, following the pull of that invisible line. The Man in the Moon may very well have created a ghost, one that was completely unaware of his state of being, and if so it needed to be dealt with immediately. Ghosts that were unaware that they _were_ ghosts often attracted no end of demons and malevolent undead, eager for easy prey. Or, if left alone long enough, they would drive themselves to madness and turn into poltergeists. The best-case scenario was the ghost getting stuck in a time loop until someone helped them pass on. Long story short, it was an issue best resolved before it became a problem.

Death urged his horse on. Their passage was swift, silent and unmarked. Horse and rider cast no shadow in the light of the moon, and Death's steed left no hoofprints in the new snow; not even a flake was disturbed. He pulled back on the reins when they reached the top of a hill overlooking the little village. The horse snorted softly, tossing his head in agitation as his master dismounted. Death patted the horse's neck, running skeletal fingers through the mane before pulling away and walking to the edge of the forest.

He spotted the newborn spirit almost immediately; the child was stumbling to his feet after a decidedly ungraceful landing. Jack's lack of skill didn't deter him, though, judging by the way he was still laughing and grinning like a loon.

"Hi!" Jack said to the first person to come near him. The woman ignored him. To Death it was plain that she couldn't see the boy at all.

Jack didn't notice, though. He continued smiling and greeting anyone who came within five feet of him, completely oblivious to the fact that they didn't acknowledge him.

 _Well, he's not a ghost,_ Death thought. Ghosts spent most of their time in a world-between-worlds called, simply, the Between. When they walked the mortal plane, the aura of the Between clung to them like a second skin. Even newborn ghosts would have inhabited the Between for the briefest moments when they were unable to pass on. Jack didn't have even a hint of that aura about him.

But then what _was_ Jack Frost? Death undeniably still felt a pull toward the boy, and if anything it had gotten stronger in the past few seconds. Deciding a closer examination of the situation might yield a few answers, the Reaper set off down the hill at a purposeful, yet unhurried walk.

The people at the outskirts of town noticed nothing but a strange tingling sensation, just below the surface of the skin, that made a shiver run up and down the length of the spine, and later resulted in a laugh with companions about walking through a 'ghost circle'. Death, for his part, ignored the humans he brushed past as he made his way toward the frost sprite he sensed quite prominently near the town's center. He had just reached the edge of the main plaza when he felt a sudden, sharp chill all throughout his being.

Death halted in his tracks, startled and slightly alarmed now. He could feel physical sensations in the living world, but they were considerably muted; not even an Antarctic ice storm would have the effect on him that stab of cold had.

Only when a feeling of hollowness grew in his chest (or the area where his chest would have been) did Death realize the sensation had been an echo, resonating strongly across his tie to Jack. His gaze fell upon the frost spirit almost immediately. The child's eyes were wide, breathing quick and shallow with fear and confusion.

Having seen the same expression on thousands of unaware ghosts, Death surmised a person must have just walked through the boy.

He was proven correct when an oblivious young couple passed through the frost spirit, eliciting a pained gasp from the boy and sending another echo of his pain through the Reaper.

Death felt that if he'd had eyes, they would be comically wide by now. This… well, this was certainly something he had never encountered before. He was already certain that Jack Frost was not a ghost, and yet Death was able to feel his emotions almost exactly as he did a ghost's. But ghosts had to consciously project their emotions for him to perceive them, or he had to consciously search them out. This sort of emotional broadcast, clarity of emotion as well as an impression of thought, only occurred when a person was about to die.

Further probing of this unusual bond showed that the emotional impressions Death received were slightly weaker than those he received from ghosts, and the thoughts he could see were not as clear as the ones he could read in a dying soul.

The moment that thought entered his head, Death had to resist the very human urge to rub his forehead in exasperation at himself for not thinking of it sooner. Pestilence had been keeping him busy recently though, so he supposed that could account for at least some of his slowness.

Death extended his senses so he could examine Jack Frost's soul. Something struck him as off the moment he began sifting through the surface layers. A foreign sense of foreboding wormed its way into Death's consciousness as his perusal took him deeper, closer to Jack's core.

When he discovered just what was wrong, Death found himself vacillating between astonishment at the singularity of this event and an overwhelming rage at the Man in the Moon.

Jack Frost's resurrection was incomplete. Death wasn't certain of the exact reason; it could have been the Moon's lack of knowledge in regards to necromancy, a lack of ability or knowledge in giving a soul new life in addition to transforming it, a lacking of the power necessary to complete the resurrection, or any combination thereof.

Jack Frost wasn't dead, but he wasn't exactly alive either.

Which left him inextricably linked to the realm of the dead and, by extension, Death himself.

As Death stood and pondered this new development, he noted yet another anomaly in the situation. The boy was at this point broadcasting his fear and confusion over his situation so strongly that someone other than Death must have sensed him. The Moon had been observing his new spirit since he'd been "reborn", and yet he was doing absolutely nothing to ease Jack's transition or assuage his fears. He hadn't even explained what he'd turned the boy into, for goodness' sake! Death and his Reapers _never_ left a dead soul like this! Death's anger at the Moon, which had already been simmering heartily, became in genuine danger of boiling over.

Just as suddenly as it had risen, Death pushed his anger aside. Since the boy was technically not alive, and the Moon was apparently leaving things as they were, he saw no issue with taking things up where Tsar Lunar had left off.

First, though, he needed to deter any unwanted attention Frost's panic had attracted. Though still distant, Death could sense several unsavory auras approaching from every direction. Pleased to have a useful outlet for at least some of his anger, Death brought more of his _aspect_ to the fore. The anger he was putting into it would make the expansion of his aura unpleasant and frightening to the spirits of the Moon's ilk he sensed approaching. The hunting ghouls he sensed would recognize his presence and find it downright menacing. If he could have, he would have smirked when he felt every single one of the undead come to a complete halt before bolting quickly back the way they'd come. It was rare he found it necessary to showcase his anger with such displays, but the results were always something like this; even the other three Horsemen would beat a hasty retreat and avoid him until he'd calmed down somewhat.

The other spirits took longer, not recognizing what or who they were sensing, but they got the gist of the message and began moving away within a few minutes.

The entire time he was projecting his threat, Death was extremely careful to make certain none of his threatening _aspect_ reached Jack. He was frightened enough as it was. The poor child was approaching a full-blown panic, stumbling over his own feet as he backed toward the forest, clutching at his chest and breathing so shallowly and quickly he would have been in danger of passing out if he'd been alive. The last thing he needed was to sense a wrathful Grim Reaper.

When the last of the spirits had been turned away- Pitch Black had been stubborn as usual- Death returned his attention to Jack. Proving that Jack wasn't as invisible and intangible as he currently thought and providing some comfort was a foregone conclusion, but approaching the boy with his current appearance would most likely make things worse. All creatures, amnesia or no, knew Death. But humans (and human spirits) were thankfully easy to fool.

Reining his anger back in, Death began pushing his _aspect_ back, caging enough of it so he would be able to assume a human form. The feeling of muscle and skin growing over bone was strange, as it always was. Death had never really made up his mind whether it was pleasant or unpleasant, but he was happy it wasn't as painful as it undoubtedly looked.

Once he felt the change was complete, he took a moment to test his limbs; flexing muscles to move was an even stranger sensation than growing said muscles. Pleased that everything seemed to be in working order, Death returned his gaze to Jack. The boy had managed to make it a few feet into the trees before collapsing at the base of a massive pine. He sat in a small nest created by the tree's roots, his staff leaning against the tree next to him, forgotten for the moment as he hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. His tremors had gotten considerably worse.

Preparing to approach the boy, Death decided to perform one last test. Though he had assumed a human form, he would still be invisible to all but the dead and the other Horsemen unless he desired otherwise. Maintaining that same level of invisibility, he moved out of the shadow of the house he'd been standing next to and walked toward the boy. He slowed as he came closer; Jack gave no indication he'd heard him approach, though the reason for that could also be his distress.

"Hello," Death said, the vibration in his throat and the movement of his jaw feeling just as foreign as the movement of his other newly formed muscles. Thought-form words were easier for him, although he sometimes enjoyed the feeling that came with having a voice-box.

Jack stiffened for the barest moment before his head snapped upward, eyes thoroughly startled as they met Death's. _So he can see me. That confirms a bond to the realm of the dead._

In a bid to appear as non-threatening as possible, Death clasped his hands behind his back and smiled gently as he covertly examined the child. Jack had obviously been crying; still-wet tear tracks were visible on both sides of his face. His hands gripped opposite elbows so hard his knuckles were completely white and the rest of his body was so taut he was shaking. His eyes, blue instead of brown, stared at the figure standing before him with an unusual mingling of awe, uncertainty and such raw, _innocent_ hope it was heartbreaking.

Death fought back a grimace, his anger at the Man in the Moon threatening to rekindle. _He should not be looking at me like that. NOBODY_ _should look at me like that._

"Can… can you see me?" Jack asked, voice shaking nearly as much as the rest of him.

"Yes," Death answered, still smiling, keeping his expression soft. Jack's eyes widened.

"You can hear me, too?" he said, hopeful now. Death's smile widened marginally, eyes closing briefly as he nodded and hummed an affirmative. When he opened them again, Jack was pushing himself up on unsteady legs. Noticing the frost sprite's slight forward lean and the movement of hands in his direction before they were withdrawn, Death obliged the child's unspoken wish and took both Jack's hands in his own, drawing him to his feet. Jack stared openmouthed at their still clasped hands once he was standing. His eyes flicked upward to Death's face for a second before darting back down to their hands.

Then Jack laughed, disbelieving at first, but the next ones were full of immeasurable relief. Death felt his smile gain a hint of authenticity when the frost sprite suddenly released his hands and danced around in several circles, sweeping up his staff and unconsciously calling down the Wind to share in his celebration. Just as suddenly as he'd started leaping about, Jack came to a halt directly in front of Death, barely a foot of space separating them. Jack craned his neck back so he could look his new companion in the face, smiling so broadly his face was split in two, eyes lit like shards of crystal clear ice in the sun. Jack only held his gaze for a few seconds before something else caught his attention and he looked down.

"What is that?" he asked, staring at the pendant hanging around Death's throat.

"An hourglass," Death answered simply.

"It's beautiful," Jack said, one hand reaching up toward the object of its owner's fascination. Stopping himself before he actually touched the thing, Jack looked up at Death again. "May I?"

Death nodded his assent, pleased he'd had the foresight to create a sphere of enchanted glass around the pendant when he'd shifted forms. Jack reached forward again, slightly hesitant. His fingertips barely brushed over the protective casing that surrounded the hourglass.

The instant he made contact, the hourglass inside the sphere glowed with blue-white light. Jack jumped backward with a tiny shout of alarm. Death, meanwhile, lifted the pendant up to eye level and held it in his palm, studying it.

The hourglass itself was still pulsing with blue light. The sand within, the color of new-fallen snow, was collected entirely within the bottom half. As Death watched, a few grains of sand floated upward as though suspended in water. They floated in single file up through the middle of the glass and back into the top half, where they proceeded to circle like leaves blowing in a gale.

"Well, that is certainly unusual," Death said, more to himself than anyone else.

"What's happening? What's it doing? Did I break it?" Jack said, staring wide-eyed at the glowing thing and unconsciously holding his staff a bit closer to his body.

Death chuckled. "No, Jack, it's only doing what it's supposed to do," he said, tucking the pendant into his robe. He would puzzle over its readings of Jack's fate later.

Jack blinked. "How do you know my name?"

Death's smile became a bit wry. "I know everyone."

Jack's brow furrowed as he pondered the strangeness of the answer. He didn't puzzle over it long, though. In less than ten seconds he was smiling right back, the tilt to his lips playful and slightly mischievous, as it had been countless times in his life before. "Well, it's not fair if I don't know who you are."

Death struggled with the sudden, absurd desire to laugh as Jack continued watching him, gaze intent but completely guileless. _He has no idea what a loaded question that is._ "I go by many names."

"Which one's your favorite?" Jack said, laughter in his voice as he hopped onto the crook of his staff, balancing as perfectly as a bird on a perch.

Death paused for a few seconds, observing the boy. Though he was smiling, finding fun in the potential of a new word game, his hands were constantly working, clenching and unclenching in an unconscious display of nerves. Previous ghostly happenstances considered, Death considered it most likely he was afraid of saying something that would drive away the only person who acknowledged him thus far.

He smiled at the boy again. "You can call me Ants'nel."

Jack's smile fell and he blinked, brow furrowing slightly. "That's… um…,"

Death's smile gained a hint of mirth as the frost spirit struggled to find something to say. "It's not English, if that's what you're wondering."

Jack's mouth curled upward again. "You don't say." The hint of a smile vanished as suddenly as if it had never been. Jack looked down at the ground, not noticing when he started clenching his hands again. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper. "Ants'nel… do you…? Are you…?"

"Jack?" Death inquired gently when the child was silent for a minute. Jack didn't give any sign he'd heard. A few moments later he slid off his staff, holding it close with white-knuckled hands.

"Do you… know what I am? Do you know why people don't… see me?"

Death heaved a large inward sigh, fighting back another wave of anger at the Moon. "Walk with me, Jack," he said, turning away from the boy. Hearing nothing behind him, he stopped after taking three steps and looked back. The child was staring at him, eyes wide and uncertain. Death realized then that he was walking deeper into the forest and, while the shadows didn't bother him in the slightest, Jack had stuck to the moonlit parts of the woods. Scared as Jack may be, Death would prefer to speak to the boy away from prying eyes. Tsar Lunar had no knowledge of his existence, and he preferred it that way.

"We have much to discuss," Death said, voice quiet and gently urging.

Swallowing, Jack hurried over to his side and kept pace as Death walked on. Death wasn't entirely surprised when the boy pressed closer to him the deeper they went into the trees, eyes moving from side to side, grip on his staff tightening as his unease grew.

When Death gently braced him with a hand on his back he stopped abruptly. Death halted in surprise when Jack grabbed a fistful of his robes and buried his face in Death's chest. For a few moments Death could only stare down at the mess of white hair beneath his chin. He tapped into his bond with the child and was struck immediately with waves of Jack's confusion over the situation and his fear of a repeat of the Moon's abandonment. Jack's need for some sort of reassurance was almost deafening.

Having encountered similar things with the souls of young children, Death decided his next few steps. He relaxed, wrapping one arm around the trembling form pressed against him and running his other hand through snow-white hair. Jack pressed closer to him, clutching with both hands now, and Death hummed a wordless reassurance when the boy emitted a quiet sob, continuing to gently stroke the frost spirit's hair.

"Don't leave," Jack whispered. The plea was broken and barely audible.

Death was glad the boy couldn't see the wryness in the smile that crept across his face. "I'm not going anywhere."

 _After all, I am life's only certainty._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

In hindsight, Death supposed he should have seen this coming. After Jack had calmed down from his crying fit, he had been utterly exhausted, which had resulted in him collapsing the instant he'd gotten some of his wits back.

Which was how Death found himself in his current position; leaning against a tree with a lapful of sleeping winter spirit.

His steed had been decidedly unhelpful in the entire situation; when the damnable creature had finally decided to seek him out, the horse had done little more than approach the pair and examine the snoozing bundle in his master's arms. Then, looking as smug as it was possible for a horse to look, Death's steed had wandered off and began happily munching on grass.

Death knew his horse had wanted him to take some time off for a while now, but _really._ Famine was going to be in quite the mood when she came looking for him, which she eventually would.

The simplest thing to do, Death mused, would have been to leave the boy where he was and return when his business overseas was concluded. And yet he couldn't bring himself to do it.

A sudden, sharp shift in position from Jack, accompanied by a sound somewhere between a cry and a whimper, reminded him exactly why that was. Death loosened his grip on the boy long enough for the child to settle himself so he was lying against Death's chest before wrapping his arms around Jack again, carding a hand through snow-soft hair when the boy gave another quiet cry. Jack relaxed at the touch immediately and his expression evened out as he slipped deeper into sleep.

Death suppressed a sigh as his horse, drawn by Jack's distress, trotted back over to take stock of the situation. The pale steed lowered his head, nose barely brushing over the winter sprite's cheek as he took in the child's scent. Jack twitched just slightly, then buried his face in Death's chest before curling in on himself. Death's steed whickered quietly, pawing the ground in agitation as his master gently rubbed the frost sprite's back to calm him.

"Please try not to wake him, my friend. He has been through enough today as it is," Death said, voice barely above a whisper. His horse studied him from one obsidian eye before returning his attention to Jack.

" _Why did the Moon abandon his foal?"_

Death _did_ sigh then. " _I do not know what he was thinking, waking the child with absolutely no memory and just leaving him like that."_

And he honestly couldn't fathom what had possessed the Man in the Moon to do such a thing. To bring a being back to life with no memory and thus no connection with the world around them, and then not assisting them in making any sort of meaningful connections was beyond cruel.

It was even worse for Jack. From what Death had seen so far, Jack's base personality hadn't been altered by his transformation; the boy thrived off of positive, friendly connections with other beings. For the Moon to ignore that fact was… Well, Death didn't feel there was a word in any language strong enough to describe his anger toward the Tsar.

His horse suddenly raised his head and turned to look to the north, drawing Death out of his musings. A whinny of greeting had him turning his own head to face a black horse as it came trotting out of the woods toward them. Its rider wore a long tunic, boots and breeches that matched the steed's coat, the clothing a stark contrast to her pale skin and white blonde hair. The woman's frame was almost skeletal; she looked entirely too small to be able to control the horse despite the fact that it was even smaller than Death's mount. The expression on her face would have cast considerable doubt on any such assumptions, though.

" _I think you're in trouble,"_ Death's horse said.

Death probably would have groaned if he didn't think it would wake Jack. Though she certainly looked less imposing, Famine could be even worse than War when she was irritated enough to take him to task, and she certainly had enough reason to considering he'd apparently ignored her earlier summons.

Famine brought her steed to a halt a few feet away from the tree Death had settled himself against and dismounted. Her stern expression slipped just slightly as Death's horse ambled over and pressed his face into her chest.

"Hello, you," she cooed, scratching between his ears. "Has your master been working too hard again? Has he been ignoring you too?" The last bit was said with a pointed, narrow-eyed look in Death's direction.

" _That's what you'd like everyone to believe, isn't it?"_ Death said, still in Horse. His steed merely twitched and ear in response before proceeding to nuzzle around Famine's pockets in search of treats. She laughed, reaching into a pouch strapped just behind her right hip and producing a large red apple. Death's horse took it in his teeth and, much to Famine's surprise, trotted back over to his master. It was Death's turn to be surprised when his horse placed the fruit in the crook of Jack's elbow, then gently nosed the boy's shoulder.

" _Do you think he still needs to eat?"_ the horse asked.

" _I very much doubt it, but it might bring him some comfort,"_ Death answered, studying Jack's face. The boy was relaxed now, and the slightest smile curled his lips for a moment when Death's horse rubbed his shoulder again.

"What is that?" All hostility was gone from Famine's voice as she came up beside the horse and noticed the bundle in Death's arms. "That's not a soul."

"Not exactly," Death said, keeping his voice pitched low as Famine crouched beside him to examine the frost spirit. He watched from the corner of his eye as her lips thinned, then her brows furrowed.

"He feels like one of the Man in the Moon's spirits. Why are you bothering with him? But… wait, why is he able to touch you? He's not…," Famine paused. Death could feel her probing at Jack's soul as he had, and her eyes went wide when she realized what was wrong. Her mouth opened, but a stern look from Death had her closing it immediately. She studied her colleague for a moment before returning her attention to the sleeping child.

"What happened?" she whispered. She knew Death wouldn't have stayed with the boy this long, wouldn't have ignored her summons like he had, unless something had gone badly wrong. Well, more wrong than a botched resurrection at any rate.

"He had no memory when he woke," Death said quietly, adjusting his grip accordingly as Jack curled up a bit further.

"None at all?" Famine asked, barely above a whisper.

"Not as far as I could tell," Death responded. "The Moon simply told him his name and abandoned him."

" _WHAT_?!"

The level of incredulous rage contained in that (rather loud) whisper had both steeds raising their heads and staring warily at the Black Horseman. Jack made a tiny noise of distress, though thankfully remained asleep. Death calmed him by resuming stroking his hair; he was quite pleased at the moment that Famine was better at controlling her _aspect_ than War when her emotions ran high.

"He just _left_ a child he _raised from the dead_ , with _no_ memory, without even telling him what he _is?_ " Famine said, voice dangerously low. The grass around her feet was steadily withering, her flesh becoming even sallower. Her horse whinnied in agitation behind her, which appeared to calm her the slightest bit. The ring of dead grass around her feet stopped growing.

"He didn't even respond when someone walked through the boy," Death said, allowing some of his own anger to color his voice.

"He didn't…," Famine quickly stood and walked back over to her steed when her _aspect_ started expanding again. Death considered it lucky she'd had the sense to do so when the grass blackened wherever she stepped. The black steed, sensing his rider's mood, trotted over to her and lowered his head with a worried nicker. Famine reached up and absently ran her fingers through his mane as she glared up at the Moon shining through the trees. When she did nothing else for a minute, her steed snorted and bumped his head against her chest. He managed to get his rider to look at him and when she saw the way he was looking at her, she managed a wan smile and rubbed his head between the eyes.

Since Famine's horse was taking care of her, Death deemed it safe to turn his attention to Jack when the child suddenly jerked in his sleep again, grabbing onto Death's robes in a vice grip. Death gently rubbed circles along Jack's spine and the child relaxed again after a few seconds. Well, everything but his grip did.

Famine laughed as she moved back over to him. "Look at him; he's latched onto you like a little clam."

"Wonderful," Death said dryly, glaring at his horse as it snorted with amusement.

Famine crouched beside him again, tilting her head to the side as she examined the sleeping child's expression. Slowly, a gentle smile crept across her face.

"He's an adorable little thing," she said, reaching our and carding a hand gently through Jack's snow-white hair. "What's his name?"

"The Moon named him Jack Frost."

"And… before?"

"Jackson Overland."

"How old?"

"Fourteen."

Famine blinked in surprise. "That young? How did it happen?"

"A combination of cold shock and drowning," Death answered, glancing at Jack and moving to stroke his again when the child moved to rest his head against Death's shoulder. He sighed, looking down at the boy's slumbering face. "What am I going to do with you, child?"

"What _are_ you going to do with him? He's a _frost spirit_ , for crying out loud! The summer sprites will tear him to pieces, like they did the others! Land sakes, what was War _thinking_ with that mess?" Famine muttered the last bit under her breath.

"You know that wasn't her fault. She had her hands full with the Crusades, and humans tend to need our attention more than spirits."

"She could've at least _tempered_ things a bit more! The winter sprites were almost completely wiped out, and they never recovered from it!"

Famine's tirade was thankfully cut short when Jack shifted again, making a tiny noise of contentment. Her gaze immediately softened when it was drawn to the young spirit. "I think this is the first time I've seen anyone so happy in your arms," she grinned.

Under different circumstances Death would've rolled his eyes at the joke. Now, though, his expression remained grim. "He doesn't know who I am."

Famine's expression fell. "Well, that complicates things. Are we going to tell him?"

"I do not know what the best course of action is at this point. He's frightened and confused as it is; learning of a connection to the realm of the dead…to _me_ … will most likely make things worse. And, as you mentioned before, there is the matter of the general suspicion of the other spirits toward winter fey. If they learned of one with a connection to the realm of the dead, the consequences would in all odds be catastrophic."

"But you don't intend to leave him, either," Famine said with an arched look.

Death shook his head. "No. He believes me to be another spirit; I'll allow him to continue to think so for now."

"He'll need help as his powers mature; I'm sure War would be more than happy to teach him," Famine said, her nomination of the Red Horseman laced with a sarcastic undertone.

"I think it would be best to hold off introducing them for a while; she's in a bit of a sulk over the Spanish Succession, if I remember correctly," Death said, a small smile curling his lips. "Pestilence and some of the more senior Reapers would be better options."

"Solriss is your most level-headed Reaper. He'll be more than happy to take some time off to watch the child. Do you even know where Pestilence _is?_ I haven't seen hide nor hair of him or his horse in over a year."

"I have a few ideas."

It was Famine's turn to sigh as she looked at the sleeping Jack again. "War's going to be upset when she hears about this."

Death laughed. "'Upset' is the best we can hope for."

Famine smiled, too. "So, I suppose we've adopted a frost spirit."

"It would appear that way, yes."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

 **Hi, guys! First of all, let me apologize very profusely and sincerely for taking so long to update, but I've just started my freshman year of college, so… yeah, I've been dealing with all that entails. I'm still trying to figure out my classes and weekend schedule and stuff, so I won't be able to post very consistently for a while, but I promise to make an effort. Thank you so, so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited this story!**

 **These next few chapters are for Taranodongirl1, who requested in her review that I write a little bit about Jack's life with Death. They're short stories about Jack's life with the Four Horsemen, Death's Reapers, and a few others.**

 **The White Horseman**

 **November 1714**

To say Pestilence was surprised when a small brown and white blur streaked through the treetops and landed barely five feet from his horse's nose would be an understatement. He didn't react beyond tugging lightly on the reins to bring his mount to a stop, but he was certainly intrigued. Whoever, whatever it was had plainly seen him, and it was also plainly not one of his colleagues. Nor was it- _he_ , Pestilence realized, a Reaper.

His horse snorted and shook its mane as though disbelieving, mirroring its rider's sentiment.

The creature was a boy, one of the Moon's spirits if Pestilence's senses were still working correctly. He had white hair and wore ragged brown clothes covered with whorls of frost. In his right hand he held an old sheppard's crook. And judging by the way the boy was smiling and meeting the White Horseman's gaze with ice-bright eyes, the spirit could see him quite clearly.

"Hello!" The boy said brightly. "Are you one of Ants'nel's friends?"

 _Who in all the realms is…_ Then Pestilence blinked. _This must be the frost spirit Famine mentioned. Jack._

"Yes. And would I be correct in assuming you are Jack Frost?"

If possible the boy's grin stretched even wider. "Yeah! That's me! How'd you know?"

"Our black-clad friend told me about you."

Jack's smile faded and his brow furrowed. "What does… 'clad' mean?"

Pestilence felt a smile threatening to show. "Clothed."

"Oh. Oh, Eia! You know her, too!" Jack said, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. Pestilence surmised Eia was the name Famine had given Jack to call her by.

Said frost spirit was suddenly standing barely a foot from the white steed's nose, studying the horse intently. Barely a second later he was smiling again. "Your horse is really pretty."

The horse blinked. Then, slowly, it stretched out its neck and nosed Jack's shoulder, taking in his scent and snorting loudly as a few stray snowflakes wafted up his nose. Jack laughed.

"Hey, boy," he said, reaching up and scratching between the horse's ears. The horse whickered and pressed into the touch.

Pestilence could feel one eyebrow arch. His horse never liked _anyone_ that fast. As though sensing his rider's incredulity, the white steed tossed his head and craned his neck around to give Pestilence a _look._

With a sigh so quiet it wasn't really audible, Pestilence leaned forward and scratched his horse's neck in apology. The horse, mollified, returned his attention to examining Jack's ragged cloak. The child smiled again and reached up to run his fingers through the steed's mane.

"Do all of Ants'nel's friends have horses?" Jack wondered aloud.

"Most of us do," Pestilence answered. While he had little interaction with Death's Reapers he knew many of them did indeed ride, though some preferred driving carriages. A rare few simply liked walking everywhere.

"Do you ever smile?"

Pestilence blinked again. Then, when the question registered, he tilted his head to the side just slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think I've seen your face change except for, at most, a few degrees since we've been talking," Jack said, mirroring the tilt of the horseman's head as he tried to puzzle him out.

It had been so long since anyone had mentioned it that Pestilence had to think about his answer for a few moments. "I've never been known for my… expressiveness."

Jack's grin practically split his face. "Bet I can get you to smile."

"You're welcome to try."

At this point Jack laughed out loud, spinning around one full circle before calling the Wind to help him leap up onto a tree branch above the White Horseman. "Was that a challenge?"

"Read it however you will," Pestilence responded.

His horse whickered, sounding strangely like he was _laughing,_ and stomped his hoof.

Jack grinned. "It's on," he said, laughing as he stood. "I have to head to Germany and stir up a snowstorm or two, but I'll find you later!"

The boy swooped off before Pestilence could even think of a response. He was back barely a second later, hanging from the branch of a large pine by his legs.

"What's your name, by the way?" he called down.

Pestilence cocked his head, considering.

"Maras," he answered after a moment. Jack grinned again, eyes sparkling in the light of the dying sun.

"Catch you later, Maras!"

With that the frost sprite was gone again, leaving nothing but a few branches and a light dusting of snow to show that he'd ever been there.

At least that was what Pestilence thought until he heard the crackling sound of a branch bending several feet above him, and barely a second later a large clump of snow landed square on his head. He sighed.

"Clever little sprite," he muttered, brushing snow out of his hair.

His horse whickered again, shaking his mane and dancing a few paces to the side.

"Oh, quiet, you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

 **Missed You**

 **July 1715**

"Ants'nel!"

Death had barely been back in the living realm for five minutes before he was nearly bowled over by a very exuberant hug from Jack. He'd taken to keeping in human form when maintaining a level of discernibility that left him visible to the winter spirit. He'd had a few close calls when he'd been distracted by work or his own thoughts when Jack had almost seen him in full Death aspect. As expected, Jack's identity as a winter spirit had alienated him from the others of his ilk; many bullied him, the rest mostly ignored him. Learning that the 'spirit' he was closest to was actually the Incarnation of death wasn't likely to do him any favors.

"Hello, Jack," Death said once he'd recovered his balance, ignoring his horse as the infernal creature whinnied with laughter behind him.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you in months!" Jack said, grinning as he tilted his head back to look in Death's face.

"All over," Death said plainly.

"You always say that!"

"And it's always true," Death answered, smiling. "Most recently I was in Africa."

"Central Africa?" Jack asked. He always got excited when Death, one of the Reapers or one of the other Horsemen told him about someplace he couldn't go, namely the equatorial regions.

Death shook his head. "Southern tip this time."

"Oh," Jack said. "How is it there? I'm not due to visit for another two months."

Being who he was, Death rarely saw anything even remotely cheerful; he'd been in South Africa helping some newer Reapers deal with the aftermath of a tribal battle over an age-old dispute between two familial clans. One tribe had been almost completely wiped out, and when he'd left the survivors were being rounded up to be dragged to the coast and sold as slaves.

Most of the time humans really drove Death up the wall.

"It was unseasonably warm, in my opinion," he said.

Jack grinned. "Maybe I'll stop by a bit early this year, then."

Thoroughly put out at being ignored, Death's horse stepped past his master and shoved his nose under Jack's arm with a snort. Jack laughed and scratched between his ears for a second before dashing away. Whinnying, the horse cantered after him. Death found himself grinning as Jack led the pale steed in a merry chase, darting around trees and letting the horse get close before zipping to the side, sometimes grabbing teasingly at a strand of mane.

"And to think, no one's supposed to be able to outrun you," Death called to his horse as said steed whinnied in frustration at Jack, who laughed and waved as he hung upside down from a branch.

" _Would you kindly make your foal stay put?!_ " was the response.

Death just laughed as the horse began trotting rings around the tree, occasionally kicking the trunk while Jack began dropping frosted pinecones from above. Seeing as they were likely not going to stop anytime soon, Death lay down, nestled comfortably in the roots of a nearby tree, and watched.

He woke he didn't know how many hours later to find Jack curled against his side, a peaceful smile gracing the frost spirit's face. Death's horse stood a few feet away, head lowered, eyes closed. As though sensing his rider's wakefulness (actually, he probably had), the horse opened his eyes.

" _Having a foal is good for you, I think."_

The horse proceeded to nicker in quiet amusement as his master attempted to extricate himself from his position, only to have the winter child wrap his arms around a black-clad torso and squeeze. If he hadn't been concerned about waking the boy, Death's horse would have whinnied aloud at the uncertain and just _slightly_ alarmed look on his master's face.

Death eventually relaxed; having a body was _strange_ , involuntary responses to emotion were something he wasn't quite used to. He wrapped one arm around the boy's shoulders and felt Jack relax further, just the slightest bit. Death sighed.

"You realize I have work to do, little one," he said quietly, looking down at said child. Jack's only response was to bury his face in Death's black robe.

Death smiled, just slightly, and drew the boy closer.

 _Yes,_ thought the horse as he closed his eyes again. _He is good for you._


	5. Chapter 5

**The Red Summer Sun**

Jack's breathing was labored as he wove his way between the trees of a forest somewhere in northern Austria. He didn't remember the name, and at the moment he didn't care to; he could hear the shouts of the summer spirits behind him, farther back than they'd been a few minutes ago but still way too close for comfort.

What were they even _doing_ here, anyway? The spring equinox had been a couple of weeks ago; there was still time for a snowfall or two. Primrose and her cohorts had no business coming this far north this early in the year. Not that it made much difference in Jack's situation, anyway. They'd come here, they'd seen him, and if they caught him… Jack didn't even want to consider it.

Jack didn't know why the summer spirits hated him the way they did. Sure, they were summer spirits and he was a winter sprite, but all he did was his job. He paved the way for Winter, which paved the way for Spring, which paved the way for Summer, which faded into Fall, then back to Winter, and the cycle kept going on and on. Jack had certainly never tried to encroach on their season, despite the fact that Primrose and her partner Amaryllis had tried to persuade the Fall seasonals to delay the coming of winter more than once. And if that didn't work (it usually didn't, the Fall seasonals may have been quiet compared to the Summer crowd, but they were damned stubborn), they would go looking for Jack and proceed to hunt him down and beat him senseless. Jack never bothered trying to fight back; there were half a dozen in Primrose's gang, and they were all older and stronger than he was.

And by the sound of it, they were currently gaining on him.

"Frost! When I catch you I am going to make you _regret_ making me work this hard!" Primrose shouted.

Definitely gaining, and by the sound of it in a _very_ foul mood. Meaning it would be all the worse for Jack when they caught him. Jack bit his lip to hold in a sob; he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. It had been over an hour already, his feet were cut and bleeding from pushing off the roughened bark of the trees, his legs were sore from propelling him every which way, and the mental strain of mapping out complex escape routes wasn't helping things. Jack needed to find a place to hide, and he needed it _now._

The Wind, who was barely able to reach him in trees this dense, blew slightly to the left. Jack didn't question it and turned in the direction his friend had indicated, heart practically leaping out of his chest when he heard a branch crack close behind him.

"Got you now, Frosty!" Amaryllis taunted, sounding like he was barely thirty feet behind Jack.

Jack tore through a tangle of branches, spitting several twigs out of his mouth once he was on the other side. His face was stinging with innumerable tiny cuts, but he forgot the pain immediately when he saw a small hole at the base of a large pine tree. It would be a tight fit, and there were a _lot_ of prickly-looking bushes in front of it, but a few thorns were preferable to whatever the summer sprites had planned for him.

Jack dove through the opening, biting back a cry as the thorns snagged at his clothes, dragging him to a halt. He dug his fingers into the ground and pulled, ignoring the pain as several of the longer thorns raked over his skin. Once he'd wormed his way inside the tiny hole, he turned around as quickly as he could and snatched his staff in the nick of time.

Primrose came barreling through the same gap in the branches Jack had come through, strawberry colored hair a tangled mess of twigs and leaves. Scratches littered her face and the skin exposed by her torn brown leggings and green tunic. Her emerald eyes were wild, with a menacing glint to them.

Brown-haired Amaryllis was right behind her, the other four members of the gang shoving their way through the branches close behind him.

"Where the heck did he go?" Primrose snarled, scanning the clearing with a glare that could have curdled new milk.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, pressing himself further back into his hiding place despite the numerous thorns poking his back and legs.

 _Make them go away,_ he thought fervently. _I don't care how, just please, please, make them go away._

Then, barely a second later, he felt every single one of his hairs stand on end. Jack's eyes snapped open as the iron taste of blood spread over his tongue, and less than a second later his nose was assaulted by the sickly sweet scent of rot. For what seemed the barest moment, and at the same time a length of days, sound roared in his ears; clashing steel, the ring of battle cries.

And then he realized all the noise wasn't just in his head; the summer sprites seemed to be arguing with each other. Cracking open his eyes he was greeted by the sight of Primrose shoving Amaryllis and Amaryllis, incensed, pushing back.

" _You_ were at the front of the line!" he was shouting.

"You were the one yelling so loud I couldn't hear anything!"

"You were both yelling so loud nobody would've heard a redwood tree falling right next to 'em! No wonder ya couldn't tell where he went!" That was Leiron, Amaryllis's brother.

Amaryllis and Primrose immediately turned their glares on him.

Then amber-haired Freesia stepped in. "Oh, come on, guys. You've gotta admit you were being kinda pathetic, all that yelling and strutting and 'I'm-oh-so better than you, I'm gonna catch the little frost sprite first' crap! You're both so full of yourselves I don't know why we even bother hanging around you half the time!"

That did it. With a furious yell Primrose tackled Freesia, taking them both to the ground, where they proceeded to roll around, scratching and punching at each other's faces and chests and yanking viciously at each other's hair. Amaryllis, meanwhile, leaped at his brother and sent them both flying into Lilac, who kicked the siblings away with an angry yell.

Jack, for his part, could only gape at the free-for-all that had erupted in front of him. The summer spirits were the most mean-tempered ones he'd met and they argued frequently, but he'd never seen them actually _fight_ like this before. It was somewhat amusing, though, when an irate Lilac grabbed the still-scuffling Leiron and Amaryllis and threw them both through the thickest bit of pine needles she could find. The boys' response was to begin throwing pinecones. Very sharp pinecones, and they were throwing them rather hard. Their aim was also not that good; while one of the prickly projectiles did hit Lilac in the chest, the rest of them went wide and landed near the tumbling forms of Primrose and Freesia, who promptly rolled on them.

Jack had to bite his hand to keep from laughing at the summer sprites' surprised exclamations of pain. The _look_ of shocked indignation on Primrose's face! Oh, he'd never forget it!

With angry cries, all three female sprites leaped after the boys, who decided the best strategy at the moment was a rapid advance in the opposite direction. Jack snickered as quietly as he could manage as he listened to the sounds of his former pursuers crashing through branches, shrieking promises of vengeance at each other.

As the sounds grew fainter, Jack grimaced and smacked his lips. The taste of blood in his mouth had faded, but it was definitely still there and he couldn't figure out why. He couldn't feel any cuts, and his lips weren't bleeding…

The sound of pine needles crackling on the other side of the clearing had Jack quickly turning his head to face that direction. Barely a second later he was pressing himself to the ground and pushing himself as far back into his hiding place as he could go, eyes wide, breathing ragged with terror.

Stepping out of the shadows was the largest horse he'd ever seen. Its hooves were steel silver; the coat and mane were a shade of red that reminded Jack unpleasantly of freshly spilled blood when they caught the dappled sunlight at the right angle. Its eyes seemed to be lit from within by an orange flame, and when it champed at its bit, Jack could see that its teeth, rather than being flat, were sharper than any knife he'd ever seen.

The rider was no less intimidating. He was clad head-to-toe in plate armor colored nearly identically to his horse. A helmet with a visor and flowing red plume concealed his face, and a gigantic longsword hung in a sheath at his waist. Looking closer, Jack felt another thrill of horror when he saw that the fingertips of the armored gloves the horseman wore had been fashioned into claws.

The rider brought his horse to a stop in the middle of the clearing. Then, to Jack's surprise, he reached up and removed his helmet. It was further to his surprise when Jack realized the he was in fact a _she_ , with ebony black hair that reached just past her shoulders, turning from black to a bright crimson at the tips. She shot a contemptuous look in the direction the fighting spirits had gone.

"Summer sprites," she scoffed, tucking her helmet under her arm. Her horse snorted in apparent agreement, pawing at the ground and champing viciously at his bit. His rider reached forward and gently stroked his neck, which seemed to calm him slightly.

Then the woman's gaze moved to Jack's hiding place and the winter spirit's breath froze in his throat. A slight frown tugged at the woman's mouth. Sensing the shift of his rider's attention, the horse turned his head and, apparently catching a whiff if Jack's scent, snorted and began tossing his head.

"You can come out now. I know you're there and I know you can see me," the woman said.

Jack was too frightened to respond.

The woman lifted the reins in one hand and nudged the horse's side with an armored boot. The horse immediately turned to face the bush Jack was hiding under, snorting and pawing the ground, straining against the bit.

"You can come out on your own, or I can send my horse in after you," the woman said. She smiled and, though the expression was amused, there was something drop-dead _frightening_ about it. "I won't hurt you, but I can't make any promises about him."

Deciding he did not want to become closely acquainted with those teeth, Jack slowly pulled himself out of his hiding place, poking the crook of his staff out ahead of him in case the horse decided to attack the first thing that moved.

It didn't , thankfully, and Jack was able to push himself up on shaking legs, but he found himself unable to meet the rider's eyes. Instead he stared at the ground near the horse's hooves, shaking and instinctively clutching his staff closer to his body. He tensed when he heard the creak of leather, and flinched visibly when the woman dismounted. Jack glanced up in alarm, backing away a step when the woman took a step toward him. Her sharp brown eyes met his gaze, and she slowly raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"Calm down; I'm not going to hurt you," she said quietly.

The horse snorted furiously behind her and stomped a hoof. The woman turned around to glare at him.

"No."

Though not spoken loudly, the command-and threat- in her voice was clear. The horse's ears drooped and he lowered his head slightly. Satisfied that the horse wouldn't be any trouble, the woman turned her attention back to Jack.

"What is your name, spirit?" she asked, taking another slow step toward him.

"J-Jack," Jack managed to stutter. "Jack Frost."

The woman's eyebrows climbed her forehead, and a moment later she sighed.

"Suppose I should have expected that," she muttered, more to herself than anything. Jack blinked in confusion.

"Wait… do you know Ants'nel?" he asked, grip on his staff loosening just slightly.

The woman smiled. Thankfully it was nowhere near as terrifying as it had been before. "Yes. He told me about you."

"Oh. Umm…, he never mentioned you." This was surprising, now that Jack thought about it. Ants'nel had told him he didn't associate with many spirits, but he knew a decent number of beings and got on fairly well with most of the ones he _did_ associate with. Not mentioning this woman… Jack couldn't imagine someone this frightening simply slipping someone's mind.

As though reading his thoughts, the woman smiled. "I've known him for a very long time; we're close friends." Then she grinned. "And believe me, he doesn't find me anywhere _close_ to intimidating."

Jack's jaw nearly dropped in disbelief. "Are you joking?"

The woman laughed. "You just haven't seen him mad yet." Behind her, the horse snorted and tossed his head in apparent agreement. Jack, despite himself, grinned.

Then the woman reached out and gently traced a particularly deep cut in Jack's right cheek. Jack, who hadn't even notice she'd gotten so close, flinched back, grin falling and bringing his staff up just slightly. The woman pulled her hand back, and Jack felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight of her clawed gauntlets.

"Did the summer sprites do that to you?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet and pitched low.

"N..no," Jack said. "I cut myself on a tree branch when I was running away from them."

"Why didn't you stand up to them?"

"I _can't_!" Jack shouted; he wasn't entirely sure where this strange ache in his chest had come from, but it was making his eyes sting. "There's six of them and one of me! And they're all older and so much stronger than I am! Do you have _any idea_ what they would've done to me if they'd caught me?"

The woman, to Jack's utter disbelief, chuckled. The horse was even more vocal, snorting, pawing at the ground and shaking his head in the most disapproving attitude Jack had ever seen a horse pull off.

"The summer spirits are all bluster. A few good blows and they'll fold like dried-up leaves," the woman said.

"B…but before you got here they were fighting! Primrose and Freesia were trying to rip each other apart!"

This time she outright laughed. "You call that kitten-tussle _fighting?_ The worst they were doing was slapping cheeks and pulling hair. If they went up against someone who actually knew what they were doing, they'd be in no end of trouble."

"I guess," Jack said, half to himself as he looked at the ground.

"I could teach you."

Jack's head snapped up as he stared at the woman. Apparently the horse was just as shocked as he was; the red steed was staring at his mistress like he didn't know the figure standing in front of him. Taking notice, the woman smacked him lightly on the nose. "Oh, hush up! He's one of ours, you wouldn't be able to trample him anyway."

" _Would_ he?" Jack asked, edging nervously away from the horse when it glared at him.

"That or rip you to shreds; he prefers trampling people first, though," the woman said as she moved toward the center of the clearing.

"You coming?" she called over her shoulder when Jack didn't follow.

Jack didn't answer, staring at the horse who now was arching his neck and… Jack could _swear_ it was smirking at him.

That is, until his rider returned and smacked him on the neck. _Hard._ The horse whinnied indignantly and stepped sideways, glaring reproachfully at his rider. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back. After a few tense seconds, the horse's ears drooped and he lowered his head to the ground.

"That's better. I'll find some fresh corpses for you to stampede over later," the woman said. The horse raised his head, ears pricked, staring hopefully at his rider.

Jack probably would have laughed at the way the horse seemed to be saying _Promise?_ if he wasn't so unnerved about the woman's statement. _Did… did she say… corpses?!_

"Are you coming, Jack?" the woman called from the center of the clearing.

"Umm… yeah," Jack said. Giving the horse (which was at this point ignoring him) a wide berth, he walked slowly over to the massive armored figure.

"What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?" Jack said, as politely as he could manage.

The woman's face split in a savage grin that instantly made the much smaller sprite want to fly like all get out to the opposite side of the planet. "You can call me Valka. Now, what I'm going to show you are some basic fighting forms and locks you can use…,"

While his mistress was instructing the little winter spirit, the red steed ambled around the edge of the clearing. Upon finding a bunch of purple primroses left by the summer spirits, the horse raised his head and snorted as though personally affronted.

 _Attack one of ours, will you?_

He then proceeded to mercilessly stomp the flowers into the dirt.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

 **Fun Flakes and Horsemen**

"Good, that was better. Now, again."

Jack groaned. "Sol _riiisss,_ we've beenat this for at least an hour."

Solriss very obviously suppressed and eye-roll. "Jack, it has been less than forty minutes."

"But I have to go to Norway to stir up a snowstorm… Come on," Jack said.

Solriss crossed his arms and gave Jack an arched look, and Jack realized he probably shouldn't have mentioned Norway. Solriss' massive stature, unusual accent and long blonde hair and beard had always reminded Jack of the tales he'd heard of the great Viking warriors, and for all he knew Solriss had been one before he'd become a spirit.

Which meant he would know all about the weather in the region.

"I'm quite sure the Norwegians wouldn't mind waiting another day or two for their cold spell. That aside, wouldn't it be nice if you could help them direct their ships into port if you could work better with Wind? Or if you could show them the beauty that can be had in winter with those little flakes of yours?"

Jack grinned sheepishly. "Well, I have heard a lot of grumbling whenever I go up there…,"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Now, W… Valka told me she's been working with you on finding a focus. How is that going?"

The sudden shift in topic startled Jack enough that he was silent for a few moments. "Um… well, I've learned to concentrate on one thing when we're sparring; she says it's best if you focus on your opponent and analyze their technique, but I'm not that good yet. I still have to think about the blocks and forms and stuff she's taught me, but if she comes at me with something basic, I can usually go four or five minutes without her knocking me over."

Solriss nodded, a thoughtful smile curling over his mouth. "All right. That's pretty good, considering how much… well, larger she is than you."

Jack felt a blush coloring his cheeks as he ducked his head. "She holds back. _Way_ back."

Solriss outright laughed this time. "She has to with essentially everyone! Land sakes, she tosses me around like one of your snowflakes in a gale when she gets too into it!"

Jack eyed Solriss's massive frame uncertainly; while Jack was an absolute twig next to Valka, he could swear she and Solriss were roughly the same size. Heck, Solriss might even be slightly larger. "I think I'd need to see that to believe it."

Solriss laughed again. "I'd invite you next time we spar, lad, but I don't want to give you nightmares."

" _That's_ supposed to make me feel better?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow of his own.

Solriss grinned. "Trust me, boy, you do _not_ want to see old Red when she's real riled up. Now, as I was saying, you can apply the principle of a focus not only to physical combat, but to your magic as well."

"Really?" Jack said in surprise.

Solriss nodded. "Yes, though they're more emotional focuses than what you'd be using in physical combat. As I'm sure you've noticed, your powers are heavily based in your emotions."

"Yeah; I've actually started using special snowflakes to make people laugh!" Jack said. Solriss suppressed a smile when the winter spirit began bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"Talking to yourself, Frost?"

Jack's smile fell from his face as he turned to face the tall, dark form of Pitch Black, who grinned back at him. Then the words registered and he glanced at Solriss, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"He can't sense me, lad."

Jack had suspected as much; he'd realized a long time ago that he seemed to be the only spirit able to see Ants'nel and his friends. He'd asked the older spirit about it, but Ants'nel's only words on the subject were that none of the spirits could see them unless they wished it.

"What brings you out here, Pitch?" Jack asked, returning his attention to the Boogieman. Though he often heard of Pitch's exploits, it was rare he ever laid eyes on the spirit himself; it was even more rare Pitch ever talked to him. Actually, it was rare _anybody_ not associated with Ants'nel talked to him.

"Avoiding the question, Frost?" Pitch replied, grin widening. "You know, humans consider talking to oneself the first sign of madness."

"Rather rich, coming from a Boogieman who speaks to shadows," Solriss mused out loud. Jack laughed.

"Says the guy who talks to shadows," Jack said when Pitch gave him an odd look. Pitch pursed his lips and frowned at the frost spirit, who just grinned back.

Angry chitters and chirps had both Jack and Pitch looking to the south, and barely a second later a swarm of eight tooth fairies was zooming out of the swirling snowflakes toward them. They formed a buzzing barricade of green between Jack and Pitch, each of them facing the Boogieman. Two of them, apparently the leaders, were chittering angrily at Pitch, who now looked bored and slightly annoyed.

"You do realize I understand absolutely nothing of what you're saying, correct?" Pitch asked, smile reminiscent of a shark's.

The fairies' chittering only got angrier. The leader began gesturing furiously at Jack; Pitch rolled his eyes.

"I have no intention of harming the frost sprite."

 _And as usual, people talk about me like I'm not even here,_ Jack thought with an eye roll.

"Ignoring us? Rather rude. At least I have the benefit of being invisible," Solriss said as he walked forward to stand beside Jack. Jack grinned as Solriss gently turned him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Now, we were discussing emotional focuses. You were talking about making special snowflakes to make people laugh? Can you explain that to me?"

"Ummm…," Jack said, glancing uncertainly at the fairies and Pitch, who were still snapping back and forth at each other (though it seemed rather one-sided on Pitch's end). "Well, it works best when I remember how much fun I have in the winter… or sometimes just fun times in general. I shape a glittering blue snowflake and blow it at a person, and it cheers them up."

Solriss smiled. "And that's a perfect example of a magical emotional focus."

"What?"

"Controlling your emotions in order to direct your magic; when you want to create one of those snowflakes, you have to dredge up happy memories or happy thoughts."

Jack grinned. "Solriss! You make being happy sound like a chore!"

Solriss's face went flat as he said, "It is. I find no measure of joy in this existence."

Jack doubled over, howling with laughter. After a few seconds had the spirit rolling around on the ground gasping for breath, Solriss leaned over him with a slightly concerned look.

"Your face!" Jack gasped. "You looked just like Maras! Oh, Moon!" And he collapsed again.

Solriss grinned. "Don't choke."

"Too late!"

Solriss burst out laughing along with the frost sprite, pleased the boy had forgotten the other spirits (who were still arguing and had _no idea_ that Jack was laughing hysterically at apparently nothing barely ten feet away) for the moment.

Just as suddenly as he'd started, Jack stopped laughing and hopped to his feet. "Hey! You just gave me an idea!"

Before Solriss could even open his mouth to ask, Jack had leaped into the sky on a gust of wind.

* * *

Death barely kept himself from rolling his eyes as War and Famine continued arguing; they'd been at it for about fifteen minutes now, War often losing her tenuous hold on her temper and snapping at her Black colleague. Famine was much more collected, but the cold glint in her pale eyes showed that she was just as irritated with War as the Red Horseman was with her. War's steed was mimicking his rider's temper, occasionally extending his neck to nip at Famine's much more skittish mount, who was at the moment watching him anxiously. Death had to give the black horse credit, though; despite his obvious fear of the red steed, he never spooked. He barely even moved enough to jostle his rider.

War's horse snapped at the black steed's nose. The black horse moved his head just enough to get out of biting range and pinned his ears, stomping a hoof in warning. To Death's right, Pestilence's mount heaved an annoyed sigh, undoubtedly mirroring his silent master's sentiment. Death's horse flicked an ear in agreement.

The Four Horsemen rarely congregated like this outside of certain rituals, and this little altercation only served as a reminder of exactly why that was.

" _Knock it off, both of you,_ " Death admonished when War's horse made to move forward again, Famine's looking to be about over his fear and getting irritated enough to start biting back. Both steeds looked over to his cloaked figure; Famine's was decent enough to look slightly abashed. A look from Death's horse was enough to get War's steed to lower his head, snorting semi-apologetically. Their riders, on the other hand, continued with their thinly veiled insults and accusations of interference with the other's work.

" _Are they going to keep this up much longer? We're going to be buried in this snow if they keep this up,_ " Death's horse grumbled.

"AH-CHOO!"

The sudden, _loud_ noise had all four horses rearing and whinnying in alarm. Death quickly leaned forward, gripping his steed's mane to keep his seat. When his horse's front feet found the ground again, all he could do was meet War's startled gaze. Famine appeared just as baffled as they were, and her horse had gone rigid with fear, staring directly ahead.

Death's steed voiced everyone's thoughts. " _Was… was that_ Pestilence?!"

As though manned by strings, all heads turned toward the White Horseman and his mount. Pestilence, looking thoroughly irritated and sitting on what looked to be a mildly put-out horse, was rubbing his nose and sniffling.

Complete silence.

And then, from the top of a snow-covered pine nearby, the Horsemen heard a faint "Told ya, lad."

"Dang!"

War and Famine burst out laughing, Famine doubled over in her saddle and War practically hanging off her horse's neck. Famine's horse still looked slightly concerned, but War's steed was whinnying right along with his mistress. Death smiled broadly, managing to subdue his own laughter, but his horse was making absolutely no effort to hide his mirth, whinnying and tossing his head.

Pestilence glared mildly at his fellows, then turned and shouted at the tree, "Dang it, Frost, I'm _allergic_ to fun!"

War actually fell over her horse's neck at that point, but she was laughing so hard she and her horse barely seemed to notice. Famine's horse snorted in disbelief and Famine herself looked close to tears. Death joined his steed and outright laughed, while Pestilence sat looking sullen and the white horse gave the equine equivalent of a despairing heavenward eye-roll.


	7. 2015 Holiday Bonus

**Holiday Hijinks**

It had happened every year, for the last thirty years or so, without fail. Nicholas St. North, Guardian of Wonder, could not explain it. Every Christmas, at some point on his ride around the world delivering gifts, he would _feel_ something. Something… _curious_ was the only way he could think of to describe it; it wasn't exactly pleasant or unpleasant, but it always left him with a vague feeling of disquiet once it had passed. It reminded North of the feelings he would get when walking through a forest alone and suddenly coming across a cold spot that sent a shiver up your spine. He believed people referred to it as _walking through a ghost circle._

The reindeer obviously felt something too, and this year had plainly been a bit worse than the last.

He had been flying west somewhere over the north Atlantic when the feeling struck him this time. It was over as quickly as it had come, but North nonetheless shivered in his thick woolen cloak.

"Whoa! Whoa, _bratva!_ Easy now!" He shouted to his reindeer over the whistling wind, tugging frantically at the reins as the deer tossed their heads and bugled loudly, apparently trying to run off every which way. Donner seemed particularly upset, lowering his head and kicking up his heels.

After another minute or so of frantic rein-work and reassuring calls, the reindeer had calmed down and were once again flying in tandem.

North exhaled heavily, finally leaning back in his seat.

" _Dobrota,_ that was certainly new!" He muttered to himself.

* * *

Meanwhile, several miles back, Death's horse had his ears pinned to his head and was prancing and snorting angrily while a disgruntled Death rearranged his cloak.

" _Every_ year, without fail," Death muttered, pulling his hood further down over his head. This was the thirtieth year _in a row_ North and his entire team of reindeer had run _straight through him_. Humans he barely noticed when they passed through him, but the Moon's spirits grated on his nerves because of the magic the Lunanoff Prince had used to grant them their semi-immortality.

" _Reindeer are so rude! Absolutely_ no _consideration for anybody else around! I swear, it's like they think those huge_ sticks _on their heads will let them get away with anything!"_ the horse complained with another angry snort.

" _Honestly, with all the times he's run into us, I'm surprised North hasn't learned to sense us,"_ Death replied as he picked up the reins again, mildly amused at his steed's words.

" _It's not funny,"_ the horse grumbled, stomping a hoof for emphasis.

* * *

A few hours later Death and his horse were standing on the rocky outcropping above the lake in Burgess, near Jack's home, watching the laughing winter spirit flying through the skies above as snowflakes swirled down all around him. No matter that the weather had been a bit warm recently, Jack always made certain the children of Burgess had a white Christmas.

That was until North showed up; then the horse spent most of his time glaring daggers in the Guardian's direction.

And Death apparently wasn't the only one who noticed; less than half an hour after North's arrival, Jack landed lightly next to them.

"Who spit in your oats this morning?" Jack asked the pale horse, who promptly pinned his ears at North again and shook his head to show the object of his irritation.

Jack's eyebrows rose. "North?" He asked with an incredulous half-laugh. "What did _he_ do to you?"

Death's horse whinnied angrily, flicking his tail.

"We had a bit of a run-in with North and his team earlier tonight," Death replied, feeling his own eyebrows climb his forehead.

" _Run-_ through _is more like it!"_

Jack laughed. "You don't like reindeer, I take it?" he asked the horse.

The pale steed snorted loudly and stomped his hoof. Death chuckled and leaned forward, patting his horse's neck. The horse exhaled heavily and relaxed, but he was obviously still pouting. Jack grinned and rubbed the horse's forehead. The horse whickered, pressing his head into Jack's hand.

All three heads jerked up in surprise when a white arrow with silver fletching whistled past them, streaking onward to bury itself into the seat of North's sleigh.

And all three heads turned in tandem back in the direction the arrow had come from to see the figure of the White Horseman astride his steed at the top of the rise, his bow still held loosely in his left hand.

"What did you do?" Death asked as Pestilence nudged his horse into a trot and guided it down the hill toward them. Sensing the power in Pestilence's arrow he had a feeling he knew, but he couldn't quite believe Pestilence would do such a thing.

The White Horseman gave him a blank look as he slung his bow back over his shoulder, bringing his horse to a stop beside Death's. "I'm certain you know."

"Pardon me for being a little incredulous; practical jokes aren't exactly prevalent in your repertoire."

"Consider it a bit of… playful retaliation for earlier."

At the word _playful_ , Death shared a disbelieving look with Jack, then looked at Pestilence with slight concern.

" _I think your foal has infected him,"_ Death's horse said, sounding slightly alarmed.

"What did you do?" Jack asked, slightly hesitant.

Pestilence cocked his head slightly to the left as he considered Jack. "Gave them all a minor infliction that should prove… entertaining when the reindeer receive their breakfast tomorrow morning. Oh, no need to look so worried, it will wear off in a few days."

"What did you give them?" Jack asked, curious now.

Death could swear he saw Pestilence's mouth quirk upward just the slightest bit. "Hay fever."

 _Happy Holidays, everyone! Here's a little holiday special for you; I've already written the next chapter, but it's a little on the sad side and I didn't want to depress people on Christmas Eve. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not that evil :)_


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

 **April 14, 1912**

Humans, for all their intellectual capacity, could be such _utter_ fools.

Death sat on his horse, observing the people far below them on the deck of the massive ship. Most of the passengers were laughing and talking among themselves, while a few kicked about the chunks of ice that littered the deck after the ship's collision with the iceberg.

 _I don't think the captain has even told them what's going on,_ Death thought to his steed. The horse snorted and shook his head in response.

"I don't see any third class passengers," a female voice said quietly from Death's left; Aditi, one of the younger Reapers.

To Death's right, Solriss snorted derisively, gently tugging on his reins to calm his agitated blood-bay mare. "We'll probably be seeing a lot of them in an hour or so."

None of the assembled Reapers responded. At least not verbally, but the tightening of hands on reins, slight shifts in saddles and the stomping hooves of the normally stoic horses was enough indication of their feelings on the matter.

* * *

Forty minutes later saw Death in one of the boiler rooms, quickly pulling free the souls of the engineers who had been working to vent steam from the ship's massive boilers. Death worked as quickly as he could, releasing his _aspect_ and allowing it to spread outward so he could take them all at once for the most part, before they could be conscious of much.

Moving back out into one of the main halls, one that was at this point mostly underwater, Death was greeted by the sight of the Reapers he'd brought with him rushing to and fro. The older ones were carrying the souls they'd taken, the mentors looking a bit like harried parents as they both coached their anxious younger charges and worked to calm the frightened souls they held.

Death quickly allowed more of his _aspect_ free, expanding it to the point he was able to sense his Reapers and the souls of the dead and dying more intensely, and they him. The elder Reapers relaxed instantly. The younger ones, who had never been made so cognizant of their bond to Death, were initially startled but they relaxed as well as they sensed their Master's tacit reassurance.

The souls they had collected, with the exception of a few, were by contrast terrified. Death gently pushed them into a sleep-like state, which they would remain in until the Reapers took them to realm of the dead.

After another cursory sweep with his expanded senses revealed that things were under control under water, Death began moving back up toward the surface, passing through the walls, the water and sunken glacial ice as easily as humans passed through air.

Things on the surface were just as hectic as things below had been. There were more Reapers working up here than there were below, but on the surface there were hundreds of people dying from hypothermia and the temperature of the water and the ambient air meant it only took a few minutes for them to succumb. The Reapers were having considerable trouble keeping up. The horses were also milling about the surface, helping corral already dead souls so their riders could collect them more easily or calling attention to souls who were having trouble leaving their bodies. Death spotted his own steed standing near the sinking ship, gently nudging the soul of a young man to its feet and whickering to get the attention of a nearby Reaper.

Death was just about to expand his _aspect_ again when he felt a sudden, almost desperate shove from the minds of one of the Reapers. _Solriss,_ he realized.

 _I'm so sorry to distract you, especially at a time like this, but he's being ridiculously stubborn and I think you're the only one who can convince him to leave,_ Solriss thought to him. Death was barely able to decipher the words, the Reaper was so frazzled, and when he did the message made no sense. At least until he sought out Solriss's location, a few hundred feet above and to the north of the sinking ship, and realized who was with him: _Jack_.

 _Oh, of all times!_ Death thought, quickly assuming a human form as he moved in Solriss's direction. When he reached the pair neither of them noticed him; Solriss was doing his best to convince the frost spirit to leave while Jack was hopping unconsciously from foot to foot as he stood on the tip of an iceberg, panicked eyes taking in the scene below him. Death considered it a stroke of luck none of the Reapers were really visible to Jack from here. Realizing just what his friends were at this moment would probably not have helped things.

"Jack," Death said softly, immediately drawing both pairs of eyes to him. "What are you doing here?"

"The… the humans," Jack stuttered, gesturing vaguely and startling visibly when a loud groan emanated from the doomed vessel. The frightened screams of the passengers still on the ship carried to them on the agitated Wind. Death and Solriss exchanged a look.

 _She won't hold together for much longer._

Jack, looking even more panicked now, swallowed thickly before continuing. "We… we have to help them, we can't just leave them like this, we can't just let them die."

Behind the frost spirit, Solriss grimaced slightly. Death fought back a wry smile. _Oh, the irony._

"Jack, there is nothing you can do," Death said, taking a step toward the anxious spirit. Jack looked up at him, blue eyes wide, and shook his head vehemently. "I can… I don't know, I can make ice flows for them to climb on, or get the wind to stop blowing or… something!"

"You're a frost spirit, Jack. Your very presence chills the air around you. Most of the humans here are dying from hypothermia or exposure, and creating ice flows will only make the water colder," Death said gently, taking another few steps forward until he stood directly in front of Jack. The sprite had stopped shifting his weight at this point, but he was gripping his staff so hard Death was surprised it hadn't snapped under the strain. Barely noticeable tremors were running up and down the entire length of his body.

Death knelt in front of the boy, placing his hands on the child's shoulders, drawing Jack's eyes to his. Death allowed the smallest bit of his _aspect_ free, using his bond with Jack to allow the winter spirit to feel it more keenly. Jack closed his eyes, exhaling shakily as his tumultuous emotions eased and his body relaxed as Death's _aspect_ wound its way around and through him.

"Jack, there is _nothing you can do_ ," Death said, firm but again gentle, when Jack opened his eyes again. "I know it is upsetting to you, but there is no reason for you to feel guilty about this. It is simply the way things are."

Jack opened his mouth, but no sound made it past his lips. After a moment, he closed it again and hung his head. Heaving an inward sigh, Death stood and looked over at Solriss.

"Take him home," he ordered quietly, turning back toward the sinking ship.

When he heard Solriss approaching the frost spirit, Death made his way back down to the surface of the water. He began walking back toward the ship, _aspect_ beginning to expand once again. By the time he'd reached the edge of the glow cast by the ship's failing lights, his human form was completely gone, black cloak billowing about him though the wind, as always, left him untouched.

A quiet whinny drew his gaze to his horse, who was walking toward him, gently nosing a tiny soul forward as he went; a girl, no more than nine years old. She walked haltingly, stumbling every few steps, breathing heavy with pain and rapid with fright. The pale steed nudged her one more time and she finally collapsed, chest heaving. Noticing a black boot before her, the child raised her head and a frightened gaze, framed by curls of red hair, met Death's. Death felt a sharp spike of fear from the girl, sensed the moment she realized just who she faced. But, to his surprise, she did not draw away. Allowing his consciousness to blend with hers, he learned why; the pain was growing quickly, becoming too intense for her to think of anything else. Her connection to her body had not been fully severed; she was still not dead, though there was nothing that could be done to keep her alive.

Death reached down and lifted the soul into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he found the few threads still binding her to her body and quickly severed them.

The moment the last connection was cut, the soul relaxed. Death glanced down just as the child looked up, guileless green eyes peering up into his face. A moment later she sighed again, burying her face in his robe.

"Where's mama?" she asked, voice muffled by Death's cloak.

Death reached up, running skeletal fingers through the girl's hair. "She will be joining you shortly."

Loud cracking sounds drew all gazes, Reaper and human, back to the ship. The lights flickered and failed at last when, with a sound like splitting rocks, the massive steamer broke in two. Screams rent the air as the stern of the ship went crashing back into the sea, sending up massive waves that swamped several lifeboats that had been too close to avoid them.

Death stroked the soul's hair again as she pressed herself closer to him, eyes screwed tightly shut as though that would block out the sounds.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

 _Quick AN here to clarify some things; I've been getting some questions about this stuff. I've taken several creative liberties with various mythologies in writing this story, most prominently with characterizing Famine and War as female rather than having all Four Horsemen be… well, men. The summer sprites are very loosely based on ancient Irish/Celtic folklore of faeries (excellent catch there, Dreamer!), and I'll probably be incorporating a little bit more as the story progresses. Long story short, as a general rule the further back in time you go, the less pleasant stories of the fey folk become. Today most westerners think of faeries as tiny, glittering winged people, but in ancient folktales faeries are extremely dangerous and temperamental and have no trouble killing on a whim. Primrose and company are obviously not_ that _level of dangerous, but they do display some classic faerie temper._

 _Another note; Solriss isn't a personification of anything, nor is he a figure in any mythology. He is a Reaper, which is basically a much,_ much _weaker version of Death. He, Aditi and the other Reapers mentioned in this chapter help guide the souls of the dead to the afterlife and on occasion assist them in leaving their bodies. Death, aside from being the leader of the Horsemen, is also Lord of the Reapers, and though the Reapers have a slight hierarchy (mentor and student, for example), they ultimately defer to him._

 _Bonus points to anyone who knows what famous event this chapter is depicting (I'm pretty sure that's all of us)._


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

 **September 1912**

Out of all the Moon's Guardians, Sanderson was the one Death tolerated the best.

Death could admit that that was in part true because the Sandman was so quiet; the other three possessed the ability to keep up a constant stream of inane chatter, even when alone (although Bunnymund would likely die of embarrassment if he learned anyone knew he often talked to his eggs as he painted them).

Sanderson was also more observant; his job was a bit more involved than those of the other Guardians and he didn't have helpers to assist him as Toothiana did. Death did not doubt that Sanderson understood his young charges far better than his fellows.

It was also interesting to note a few similarities in their powers, though Death was not certain the Sandman would appreciate the parallels should he learn of them. Humans often referred to death as "the final rest" or "eternal sleep". The process of dying, at least in the biological sense, was very much like falling asleep though the end result was a bit more permanent and, depending on the circumstances, could be considerably more painful. And happiness was rarely something Death provided.

He found himself musing idly on these things as he passed-literally- through the door of a small house in Twin Falls, Idaho, rivers of the Sandman's golden sand shining brightly in the night sky above.

One of the streams of sand was making its way into the house Death had entered; the glow was visible from the hallway even with the door closed, but Death paid it no mind. He could sense the child's soul, warm and bright, content in the dream-sand induced sleep, but that was not what concerned him tonight. He walked on to a door at the far end of the hall, which stood ajar. The sound of someone pacing over a carpeted floor was just barely audible.

Death paused, listening. The steps were unsteady and heavier than they should be. The man's thoughts were slowly becoming clearer to him despite the fact that he'd made no attempt to read them, a sure sign that the man did not have long.

Adam Coleman, age 34, was a fairly successful tax accountant who had recently been employed by an up-and-coming wealth management firm. He'd married his girlfriend of four years, Catherine Greene, at age 27. A son was born two years later and the family had moved into this house when the child was just over five months old.

It was around that time that a malignant tumor was discovered in the right-hand side of Adam's brain.

Various treatments had kept the cancer at bay, but the tumor had grown slowly and steadily and the location meant that surgical removal was not a viable option.

Adam had done his best to keep a brave face for his wife and his parents, for his child, but the symptoms had been worsening steadily for the past several months; dizzy spells, agonizing headaches and, most recently, occasional loss of vision.

And now… well, Death's presence spoke for itself.

Aside from all of this, though, Death could sense something else; the man, on some almost instinctual level, knew he was dying.

And he was very much afraid.

 _Oh, dear._

After using a small flux of power to ease the pain of the headache the man had been feeling as much as he could without actually killing him, Death once again assumed a human form. After a quick check to see that everything was in working order, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He was met with the sight of a black-haired man sitting on a queen-sized bed, dressed in a slightly worn suit with the top three buttons of the shirt undone. His brown eyes were slightly glazed and his face was covered with a thin layer of sweat, undoubtedly the result of the headache he'd just suffered. When his gaze met Death's, it was still out of focus.

"You're the new doctor, I suppose?" Adam said, voice slightly hoarse and _so very_ tired. Death could feel his newly acquired eyebrows climbing his forehead. He considered it a stroke of luck, though, that the man wasn't questioning the appearance of a stranger in his home.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Death asked.

"Hm? Oh, no, no, of course not! Please!" Adam said, waving vaguely at a chair resting in front of a small vanity mirror. Death walked over and took it with a small inclination of the head. Once he'd settled he took some time to observe the man.

"You've held on fairly well," he said after a few moments. Adam gave a smile that was more of a grimace.

"You don't sound as optimistic as any of the other doctors," he said. There was a definite tremor underlying his words now.

Death just gave a non-committal hum before replying, "It's gotten worse."

The man's eyes, sharper now, widened for a moment before he looked at the floor. "Yes. It's… the headaches are nearly unbearable now and they come a lot more often. It's probably going to get better in a while, I've had periods where the headaches get really bad."

Death found it difficult to tell who he was trying to convince in that last sentence.

"You've told no one," Death said after the silence persisted for a minute.

"No." The man's voice was definitely a little higher-pitched this time. "It'll get better… the treatments are so expensive, poor Cathy's had to take on an extra shift at the hospital to pay for it all and we always have to leave Johnathan with his grandparents because we can't afford a babysitter! If she knew things had gotten so bad, I don't… I don't want to think about how she'd feel!"

"She sounds like a strong-willed woman," Death said.

Despite obvious worry, Adam managed a smile. "Yeah. A man couldn't ask for better… she's always been so independent; she put herself through nursing school, drove her Papa up the wall when she was a teenager."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Death mused. "By the way you speak of her, I'm certain you can trust her to manage things on her own."

Adam looked at him strangely for a moment, then his eyes became distant again as he smiled wistfully. "Yes. Cathy's a wonderful woman, working so long even when… wait a minute. She's… she's still at the hospital, she took the evening shift for the next month! The door was locked! How did you get in here? Who are you?" The man was standing now, posture defensive, expression stern, but his eyes betrayed his alarm.

"Peace, Adam," Death said, one hand raised in a placating gesture. His voice was quiet, but there was power in it.

The shift in the atmosphere was palpable. Adam stared at the figure before him, like he was trying to see something that was just a little too far for him to see it clearly. Despite the disguise, Death could tell that the man was beginning to perceive his true nature; that fact was confirmed when all expression left Adam's face.

"I'm never getting better, am I?"

"No."

"You're going to kill me?"

 _Oh, for the love of…_! "Contrary to what seems to be popular belief, I do not actually _kill_ people unless they are royally upsetting the natural balance. I simply reap a soul when it is their time to die and, if necessary, guide them on."

Adam stared at him for a moment, surprisingly less afraid now that he saw Death for what he was. The man sat down heavily at the foot of the bed, covering his face with his hands. Death, meanwhile, pulled free the hourglass pendant from his robe and tapped it lightly with a skeletal finger. It spun around its axis once, twice, before the red sand within it settled. There was very little left at the top; less than five minutes by Death's estimate.

"Couldn't you… _wait,_ for a few years?" Adam's voice drew Death's attention back to him; the man still hadn't moved from his position on the bed.

Death, having read several physical signs and knowing exactly how the man was going to die, responded, "I doubt you'll want me to."

"But… my family… God, my _son,_ my child, he'll grow up without a father! Couldn't you…?"

"As do thousands of other children," Death interrupted, voice calm and gentle as he could make it considering his words. "Upsetting? Yes, but unfortunately that is the way of things. I am sorry that I must take you so soon, Adam Coleman, but there is nothing I can do."

Death hid the hourglass before Adam gave him a brief, despairing look. The man quickly looked at the ground again.

"They will be able to manage without you," Death said. "Will they grieve? Yes, of course. Things will be hard for them for quite some time. But your wife, as you said, is strong-willed and independent, and I do not doubt she loves your son just as fiercely as you do and will do everything in her power to give him the best life she can. Eventually, they will learn to live with your passing and, one day, they will follow you."

Adam smiled wanly as Death stood, staring at something on the wall behind Death's shoulder. "Though hopefully that won't be for a while."

Death tilted his head in acknowledgement. Adam blinked up at him, smile becoming just a little bit wider.

Then he grinned. To his credit it was only a little shaky. "No scythe?"

 _Aie._ "Only when I want to scare people."

Adam gave a bark of surprised laughter as he stood too. His smile was a bit steadier when he looked at the Reaper again, more thoughtfully now. "You know, you're not what I would have expected."

"Daddy?"

Both figures' heads turned toward the doorway, in which stood a small child dressed in flannel pajamas, rubbing his eyes tiredly with one hand. Death was more than a little surprised to see the plump, glowing figure of the Sandman bobbing in the air behind him, smiling broadly while observing the scene with playful interest.

"Who're you talking to?" the child, Jonathan, asked. Adam cast a quick look sideways.

"They can't see me," Death said.

Adam gave the barest of nods, then opened his mouth before snapping it shut again, brow furrowing in confusion.

 _Ah, yes, I forgot he can't see Sanderson._ "The Sandman is with him."

Adam blinked. "The Sandman is _real?_ "

Johnathan smiled from ear to ear while Sandy grinned and hopped up and down in the air.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised," Adam mused, mostly to himself while his son began talking animatedly about his new glowing friend.

"Adam, I would recommend sending the child away."

Startled, Adam turned his head to see Death holding the hourglass pendant, the last few grains of sand slipping inexorably to the bottom.

"Wh…,"

"In a couple of minutes you're going to experience a fairly violent seizure; I would not think you'd want your son to witness that," Death said, tapping the hourglass.

The man was struck dumb for a moment. Then he turned back to the door and said, "Johnathan, why don't you and… and the Sandman go back to your room, huh? It's way past your bedtime, buddy, you shouldn't be up so late, Mama'll be upset when she gets home."

"Daddy, are you okay?"

Death was not surprised the child had picked up on his father's distress; the man's voice had been shaking so badly Death was surprised he'd been able to speak at all.

Adam took a deep, steadying breath and walked over to his son, going to his knees before him and placing his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"I'm fine, Johnny-boy. Everything's gonna be just fine," Adam said, smiling at his son. "You be good for your Daddy now, all right? You go back to bed, go to sleep. And be good for your Mama, too, okay? You be strong and brave for her, okay, Johnny?"

Johnathan smiled, showing the gap between two front teeth. "Like St. George and the dragon, Daddy?"

Adam gave a laugh that was half a sob. "Yes, Johnathan, like St. George and the dragon."

Sandy was looking worried at this point, having noticed Adam's distress but seeing no cause for it. Death just hoped he'd have the sense to keep the child away from this room for a while; hopefully he'd send him back to sleep.

Adam had drawn his son into a hug. The man's eyes were closed and he ran one hand through the boy's short blonde hair.

"I love you, Johnathan," he whispered, the words sounding like they were being dragged from his chest. "I love you _so, so_ much."

"Love you too, Daddy," Johnathan answered happily, giving his father a quick peck on the cheek.

Adam made a choked sound, kissing his son's forehead before setting him back down. "You go on to bed, now," he whispered. "Goodnight, goodnight…,"

"Don't let the ladybugs bite!" Johnathan laughed, obviously repeating something he'd said before.

Adam laughed again, a genuine, happy laugh as Johnathan ran down the hall back to his own bedroom with the Sandman floating close behind.

"Remember that when you're older, kiddo!" he called. Johnathan laughed loudly one more time before the sound of his door closing echoed down the hall. Adam turned back to Death just as the Reaper tucked the pendant back into his robe. If there was a tear or two on the man's cheeks, Death didn't comment on them.

"He's always said ladybugs," Adam said, still smiling, though now there was a wistful edge to it. "Cathy tried to get him to say 'bedbugs' for months, but he would always say 'ladybugs'. Eventually she gave up; she acts annoyed when he does it, but I think she thinks it's funny, too."

Death inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement as Adam quietly closed the door.

"You may wish to lie down," Death said. Adam looked puzzled for a moment before understanding dawned in his eyes and he made his way over to the bed, settling himself comfortably near the middle.

"Thank you," the man said suddenly.

"Hm?"

"The clock on the wall. It wasn't moving when I was… when I was talking with Johnathan. Neither was my watch. They both stopped working when you touched that… that hourglass, and when you tapped it a second time they started going again. I'm not exactly sure what you did but… thank you."

Death nodded. "I can manipulate time, to a certain extent; I can't do it for very long if I don't wish to upset things, but in certain situations…,"

Adam smiled. Then his body went rigid and his eyes rolled back, limbs jerking spasmodically. Death reached forward and grabbed the soul before there could be more than a moment's pain.

* * *

A light frost was forming on the grass as Death made his way back out onto the street toward his horse. The reason for that became apparent when he heard a familiar laugh, and a moment later he saw Jack zipping about above the houses, playing with streams of golden sand that would turn into dolphins or horses when he touched them while the Sandman laughed silently in the middle of it all, directing a few threads of sand toward the frost sprite when Jack wasn't looking.

A low, warm pulse brought Death's attention to the soul in his hand. It had taken on the form of a glowing blue ball in its sleep-like state, and it sent another warm pulse at him when his senses gently prodded at it.

Happiness wasn't something he really dealt in. Peace, however, Death could do.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

If you were to ask Jack Frost, the Easter Bunny was a bit too full of himself.

Take today, for example. It was early March and Jack had been out in eastern New York taking care of a brewing storm front, doing what he could to temper the foul weather that was due in the American Northeast later in the week.

Honestly, Jack didn't even know what Bunny was expecting, coming this far north at this time of year. Of _course_ there was going to be ice everywhere, and _of course_ if you weren't paying attention you were going to step on a slippery patch of the stuff and fall.

The slide into someone's holly bush had just been a bonus. For Jack, anyway. And he couldn't _help_ it if he'd laughed; Bunny's accent made his cursing so much funnier than anyone else Jack could think of, Valka being the only possible exception.

And of course the overgrown kangaroo blamed _him_ for the fall, even though Jack had just happened to be flying over when it happened. Heck, Jack hadn't even _caused_ this particular snowfall; there was such a thing as natural weather, for crying out loud!

So Jack was currently flying through a forest, weaving through the trees, giggling to himself as an angry Bunny sprinted after him.

"Frostbite, ya damned little pixie! Get back here an' I'll show you somethin' _real_ funny!"

Jack only laughed harder as he sped up, pushing off of tree trunks to increase his momentum. When Bunny was angry, his accent became thicker, which Jack found absolutely hilarious.

He was still laughing when he ran full-tilt into something that had been moving very rapidly in the opposite direction. Then, physics being what it was, Jack was propelled backwards with a startled yell while whatever he'd run into went falling away from him.

Jack ended up landing at the roots of a tree, the air leaving his lungs in a rush that left his head spinning for a few moments. He screwed his eyes shut with a groan, one hand groping for the staff he'd dropped upon hitting the tree.

He found when it was dropped on his head.

"Ow!" Jack yelped, glaring up at a smirking Bunnymund as he snatched his staff up from where it had landed beside him.

"That'll teach ya to knock other people down, eh, Frostbite?"

"I _didn't_ make you slip, Bunny. I…," Jack snapped, and promptly cut himself off when he saw what he had run into.

A horse. A young one; a filly by the looks of it, a beautiful buckskin tobiano. She had apparently just gotten to her feet and was studying him very intently. She must have liked what she saw, because a second later her ears pricked forward and she gave a few tiny bucks, snorting exuberantly.

"So _Jack Frost_ didn't make a sheet of ice to trip somebody up an' make 'em fall into some prickly bushes? Why do I not find that believable?"

Oh, right. Jack had been so entranced with the horse he'd forgotten about the huge, uptight bunch of fuzz that was the Easter Bunny.

"There is such a thing as _natural weather,_ Bunny. There is such a thing as _natural_ ice. There is also such a thing as people _not looking where they're going,_ which leads to these unfortunate little things called _accidents_ ," Jack said.

"You can drop it, Frost, I heard you laughing!" Bunny snarled, ears dropping so they were pinned against his head.

Nobody noticed the horse mirroring the action.

"Well, _yeah_. Don't tell me you haven't laughed when someone royally trips up," Jack said with a grin.

"Yes. No! Well…, but… ya shouldn' do stuff like that!"

Jack didn't know what was funnier, Bunny falling into a holly bush or trying to deny that he _could_ be a bit of a jerk sometimes.

"Hypocrite!" Jack crowed, hopping onto his staff and balancing on the top. Bunny glared up at him.

"Why, ya bleedin', no-good little anklebiter…,"

That was when the horse decided to take a bite out of Bunny's tail.

* * *

Death was not entirely certain what to make of the sight of a young deathsteed doing her damndest to trample the Easter Bunny. Barely over a year old, she was much too small to actually accomplish the task, but she was certainly giving her all to it. Bunnymund, considerably bruised but not wanting to hurt the filly, was scrambling all over the clearing with a panicked look reminiscent of a rabbit being chased by blood-crazed wolves while Jack and an invisible Black Horseman and steed laughed uproariously at the base of a nearby tree.

He was not surprised that Famine had been the one to find the missing filly; her horse seemed to have an intrinsic drive to locate others of its kind. He was, however, a bit surprised that she hadn't stopped the young horse's attack; Famine would usually diffuse tense situations (unless War was involved).

Although this scene was admittedly a little hysterical.

 _I think the filly has become attached to your foal,_ Death's horse said between equine snickers of his own.

 _It would appear so_ , Death answered. It hadn't escaped his notice that if Bunnymund would start to head in Jack's direction, the filly would immediately begin to herd him away. If he did manage to get too close to the frost spirit, the little horse would pin her ears against her head, whinny as loudly as she could manage and attack with considerably greater vigor.

It was common knowledge among the Reapers that no one hurt a deathsteed's rider and got away with it. Considering the enmity between Bunnymund and Jack, it wasn't unlikely that Bunny had been yelling at the frost spirit and the filly had decided that the rabbit was threatening her newly discovered friend.

 _Do you think she'll bond with him? Choose him to ride her?_ Death's steed asked.

 _It will be a while yet before she's at that stage,_ Death said. _But I suppose it is a possibility, yes._ It was extremely rare that a deathsteed allowed someone who wasn't a Reaper to ride them, but it had happened before. And… well, Jack had proven unusual in more ways than just his not-fully-dead status. Death certainly didn't put bonding with a deathsteed outside the boy's realm of possibility.

Said deathsteed was currently driving and unaware Bunnymund toward a particularly thorny-looking hawthorn plant. Jack was still laughing senselessly on the ground while Famine and her steed egged the filly on. Death's horse snickered to himself while Death rubbed his forehead with a skeletal hand.

 _Some days, I swear I work with five-year-olds._


	11. Important AN!

**Important! Hiatus Notice!**

First and foremost, thank you _so, so_ much for all of the positive feedback and reviews from readers and followers! It means a lot to me, and it's encouraging like you wouldn't believe. Second, I am sorry for the lack of updates, but I've been very sick for the past couple of weeks (I was almost hospitalized on Tuesday), and my doctors have no idea how long it's going to take me to recover. It could be anywhere from a week or two to a few months. So, until I'm feeling emotionally stable enough, I'm going to be putting a hold on updating my works on this site. My apologies, and thank you for your understanding. (And sorry to those of you who thought this was an update!)


	12. Update on My Condition

**Author's Note: Update on My Condition**

To my readers:

Thank you so, so much for all of your encouraging messages! They're more helpful than you'll ever know. I now have a definitive diagnosis and yes, my condition is potentially life-threatening and I'm fighting my hardest to pull through, even though sometimes I feel like giving up. Your messages helped remind me that I still have much to live for and that, at the very least, no one can finish my stories for me. I'm doing better today, but this is far from over and the biggest danger with medications still being uncertain is a bad relapse. Thank you very much for your help, and I promise you that I will keep fighting this. Heck, now that I've got a bit of a clearer head, dying right now would not be okay with me.


	13. Update on My Condition: Good News

**Update on My Condition: Good News**

Good news, guys! My therapist and doctors are confident that a full recovery is possible, as long as I keep doing what I'm doing: keep fighting, keep hopeful and don't give up. I'm definitely feeling a little bit better, but to be honest I'm still a little frightened about some of the symptoms of my illness and it's difficult on occasion to keep my chin up, but I'll be doing my damndest. Thank you so much for all of your encouragement, and I'm hoping to be fully recovered within the next few months.


	14. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

There was no way Ants'nel was a spirit.

Jack had been thinking about the older (what did he call him? It wasn't like he knew what Ants'nel actually _was_ ), but he didn't really think that the older… being was a spirit.

First off, none of the other spirits _ever_ saw him; heck, they'd never even _heard_ of someone named Ants'nel, and everyone looked at Jack like he'd gone 'round the bend if he mentioned him. They'd never heard of Maras or Valka or Eia or Solriss or any of the others, either, and Bunny and Groundhog had started ribbing Jack about having a group of imaginary friends. The summer spirits outright teased him, declaring loudly and openly to anyone who would listen that Jack Frost was out of his mind.

Coyote and the White Owl Woman, on the other hand, though they said they did not know Ants'nel or the others, had begun acting a little strangely when Jack had described them. Heck, even the _Leprechaun_ had looked a little nervous.

Now that Jack thought about it, _all_ of the oldest spirits said they didn't know anyone named Ants'nel, and it certainly seemed like they were being honest when they said it, but when Jack began actually describing him they started acting funny. All of them looked uncertain; some even looked a little scared.

Needless to say, it had Jack intensely curious.

Of course, most would probably have suggested that Jack simply go to Ants'nel with his suspicions and talk about it, but… well, Jack didn't know how to even begin approaching the subject. _Hey, Ants'nel, I was wondering why none of the other spirits know about you and why none of them can see you. You mind telling me why that is?_

The sad thing was that was essentially the best conversation opener Jack could come up with, which was one reason Jack was somewhat relieved when he couldn't find Ants'nel. He'd flown all over the globe, _twice_ , and there had been no sign of… anyone, actually. Well, he'd seen Vlad in Romania and had said a brief hello, but Jack knew that he didn't keep tabs on denizens of the spirit world.

So here Jack was, sitting in a lone tree near the edge of a small woodland in the Scottish Highlands. It was fairly dark out; despite the fact that there was a full moon a light fog had descended about an hour ago, shrouding a good portion of the light. Jack found he didn't really mind the partial darkness; he didn't particularly want to feel like he was being watched by the Moon right now.

Idly making patterns of frost in the grass with his staff, Jack found himself wondering of the Moon ever talked to Ants'nel. Ants'nel never really brought the spirit up, and whenever Jack mentioned MiM in his presence he would always seem to radiate a feeling of… annoyance, Jack supposed he'd call it. That in itself was odd; all the other spirits Jack had met held some level of respect for the Moon (despite that Pitch's was distinctly grudging). But when Ants'nel spoke of him, he always managed to make the Man in the Moon sound like a child trying to act like an adult, messing with things he didn't really understand. Valka was the same way; she'd scoff whenever MiM was mentioned, and her horse would be more inclined to bite things for several minutes afterward (Jack had learned that the hard way). Eia always looked like she'd sucked on a lemon and Maras would look like he'd actually considered rolling his eyes.

Aside from that, though, there was this _aura_ around Ants'nel. Jack was rarely cognizant of it these days since he'd known him for so long, but Ants'nel had this feeling of age about him, and whenever it was pronounced enough for Jack to notice it the frost spirit got the distinct impression that Ants'nel was older than the Man in the Moon. _Much_ older.

Come to think of it, he'd never asked Ants'nel how old he was, either.

And, as though summoned by his thoughts, Jack heard a familiar voice. Well, familiar enough that Jack recognized it as Ants'nel, but it had… _changed._ It… Jack wasn't sure how to describe it. It sounded like dried leaves blowing over a dirt road, or like sand falling through an hourglass.

"This is the sixth one in as many weeks. So many half-formed ghouls in so little time _cannot_ be a coincidence, Solriss."

"I know that, but I can't pick up any magic traces, not even anything like necromancy."

"Have you spoken with the _cait sith_ and the hounds?"

"Yes; none of them have seen or sensed anything suspicious, and poor old Shuck has been patrolling this area for nearly three weeks! I don't understand how someone could be raising corporeal ghouls right under our _noses_!"

 _Ghouls?!_ Jack felt a thrill of terror run down his spine. He'd heard tales of the creatures from spirits all over the world, undead creatures that fed on the spirits and occasionally the _flesh_ of the living, and hoped that come Hell or high water he'd never meet one. To hear that Ants'nel had, apparently, dealt with _six_ of the things with apparently no issue…

 _What_ was _he?_

Jack, shifting as quickly and quietly as he could, climbed higher in his tree, just to a point where he could see above the shifting fog. Four figures stood illuminated by the moonlight. Two were horses, Ants'nel's pale steed and Solriss's blood bay mare. One was Solriss. Jack couldn't see Ants'nel's face from here; he was wearing his usual hooded cloak, but now the hood had been drawn up over his head.

Then the hooded figure turned toward his horse, who was staring intently at his master, and Jack froze in shock. And terror.

Beneath the hood there was nothing but a skull, though the voice it spoke with, though changed, was undoubtedly Ants'nel's.

"I am aware, my friend," he said, lifting a hand- _a skeletal hand_ \- to stroke the pale steed's nose.

And then it clicked.

 _The Pale Horseman._

Ants'nel wasn't a spirit. Ants'nel was an Incarnation. No, more than that, he was a Primordial. The most powerful and quite probably the oldest Primordial.

Ants'nel was Death.

* * *

 **Well, here's a new chapter, everyone! I felt emotionally stable enough to finally finish this one, but it will probably be a while before I continue this story. The condition I was diagnosed with a little over a month ago is major depressive disorder, and I have been working on managing my symptoms and recovering from this episode ever since. Thank you so much to everyone for all of your support and encouragement; it helps me keep going.**


	15. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

 **The Green Fields of France**

 **November 12, 1918**

 _Well, how do you do, young Willie McBride?_

Contrary to what most humans thought, Death did not spend much of his time in graveyards. Though he often found the silence of a cemetery peaceful, he was usually far too busy to actually take the time to linger anywhere.

 _Do you mind if I sit here, down by your graveside,_

 _and rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun?_

 _I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done._

The morning was cool; a fine mist hung in the air, the scent of the poppies that grew on the peripheries of this improvised cemetery rising with it. The sun had just begun to peak over the horizon as Death wandered down the rows of freshly dug graves, silent as he read the names and ages of the fallen soldiers.

 _I see by your gravestone you were only 19_

 _when you joined the great fallen in 1916._

 _I hope you died well, and I hope you died clean,_

 _or young Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?_

 _Did they beat the drum slowly,_

 _Did they play the fife lowly?_

 _Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?_

 _Did the band play the Last Post in chorus?_

 _Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?_

Why the humans would feel the need to fight a war like this escaped Death's ken; they'd driven even War into the ground with this so-called 'Great War'.

 _And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?  
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined  
Although you died back in 1916  
In that faithful heart are you forever nineteen?  
Or are you a stranger without even a name,  
Enclosed then forever behind a glass pane  
In an old photograph torn, battered, and stained  
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame?_

A bitter laugh signaled the arrival of said Horseman behind him. Death turned to see War, mounted on her sweating, exhausted steed, standing on a rise close to the wire fence surrounding the cemetery.

"'War to end all wars' my ass," she muttered, staring at the ground as though in a trance. "Their treaty won't hold. I sense it already. The fires for another one are already brewing."

If Death could have sighed, he would have. He could sense it as well, mainly through his link to Famine.

 _The sun now shines o'er these green fields of France  
There's a warm summer breeze that makes the red poppies dance  
And look how the sun shines from under the clouds  
There's no gas, no barbed wire, there's no guns firing now  
But here in this graveyard it's still no man's land  
The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand  
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man  
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned_

The quiet sound of black hooves cantering over the road announced her coming. Her face was expressionless, though there was an unusual lack of sternness in her voice when she spoke to War.

"It will begin in Germany. They have not the money to both pay reparations for this war and feed their nation. Many will not survive the coming years."

 _Now young Willy McBride I can't help but wonder why  
Do those who lie here know why did they die?  
Did they believe when they answered the cause?  
Did they really believe that this war would end wars?_

The Reapers began arriving in a bedraggled train, all very slowly, all looking very much like ghouls and ghosts themselves. Solriss could barely hold his head up and his horse was all but leaning on Pestilence's mount as the White Horseman rode beside her. One by one, every single Reaper, with a nod to Death, settled themselves near a massive oak tree that grew at the edge of the graveyard, and were asleep within minutes.

Death himself stood near the trunk; many of the younger Reapers had gathered close to his feet as they slept. War stood at his left, essentially leaning on his shoulder. Famine stood at the Red Horseman's other side, Pestilence at Famine's left.

"Why must humans be so petty?" Pestilence muttered, observing the crowd of sleeping Reapers.

 _For the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain  
The killing and dying were all done in vain  
For young Willy McBride it all happened again  
And again, and again, and again, and again._

"Go to sleep, my Red, beautiful Flame," Death murmured, wrapping a cloaked arm around the shoulders of the Red Horseman and pressing his equivalent of a light kiss to her forehead. War collapsed against him, murmuring quietly and senselessly, and Death lowered both her and himself until they rested against the trunk of the tree. War buried her face in Death's shoulder as Famine lay down beside them. Pestilence did the same, albeit slightly further away, and was asleep within seconds. War was already out like a light. Famine was still awake, observing her Red counterpart with a slight crease in her brow.

"What is wrong, Famine?" Death asked quietly, watching her. Famine blinked over at him, plainly anxious now.

"I've never seen her so close to tears before."

"Neither have I," Death mused, looking down at the slumbering War.

Famine tilted her head suddenly. "Do you ever cry?"

"The last time I did so was long before I separated the rest of you from my being."

Famine let things be at that, settling down against War's back and closing her eyes, burying her face in the crook of a black-clad arm. It didn't take long before she, too, was asleep.

Death remained awake for a time, observing the slumbering Reapers and Horsemen and expanding his powers so no other being aside from another Primordial would be able to sense them, and even then it would prove difficult for them; the last thing he needed to see right now was Mephistopheles.

Which was why he was somewhat surprised when he felt a rush of cold wind and, barely a second later, Jack dropped down from the lower branches of the tree and stood before him, shifting from foot to foot and not meeting Death's gaze for more than a second at a time before glancing away.

They hadn't spoken in nearly three years at this point, Jack having avoided Death and the Horsemen and Reapers ever since that night in the Scottish Highlands. It was understandable, Death knew, and he was slightly surprised Jack was approaching him so soon. And at such a… well, difficult moment on Death's part.

"Are… are they all… okay?" Jack asked hesitantly. He nudged a sleeping Reaper… Aditi… with the crook of his staff. She muttered a sleepy protest before darting out a hand and nearly managing to latch onto Jack's ankle. Jack managed to leap out of the way only just in time. Aditi instead grabbed onto a snoozing Ming and pulled the older Reaper into a one-armed hug, not waking up once the entire time. Ming's only reaction was a long-suffering sigh; she rolled over and returned the gesture without once opening her eyes.

"They'll be alright. We're all just worn-out at the moment," Death replied, unable to keep an undercurrent of amusement form his voice as he observed the two Reapers.

Jack's face fell at the reminder of the war that had just ended. Then it twisted into an expression of confusion. "You're not… happy about this?"

"Of course not. I find it ridiculous, the number of ways humans come up with to kill each other."

"But… but you're… you're Death."

"Has anybody ever always liked their duties?"

"What about V… War?"

In answer Death indicated the bedraggled Red Horseman, sleeping tucked into his side. Jack's face fell again. "Oh."

There was silence for several moments. Then Jack said, "It's just… I figured… jeez, for a while… until now, I guess, I thought you guys were the ones behind all of this. I mean, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, this seemed right up your alley."

"'Of the Apocalypse' is something of a misnomer," Death mused, sounding slightly irritated. "We help maintain a balance, that is all. 'Four Horsemen Who Keep the Wheels Turning' is distinctly less dramatic, though closer to the truth."

Jack managed a wan smile for a moment before returning his gaze to the ground.

"Why did you lie to me?" He asked quietly. "About… who you were? Your name?"

"When I first found you, you were alone and terrified out of your mind," Death responded. "How would you have reacted if I'd walked up to you looking like this, or told you that I was the Incarnation of Death? And later, what do you think the summer spirits would have done, had they discovered your connection to me? They already hate you for being what you are; I did not wish to give them, or any other spirits, further reason to push you away."

"But couldn't you have at least told me your real name?"

"Technically, I did. Do you know what Ants'nel means?"

Jack paused, thinking. "No."

"It is Armenian for 'to cross over' or 'to pass on'. Valka is the Czech word for war. Maras is a Lithuanian word that translates to 'a deadly epidemic', and Eia is an extension of the Chinese word for hunger."

Jack's jaw dropped. "What? So… wow, you technically _didn't_ lie about your names."

Death nodded.

"How… how was I supposed to figure that out? Armenian? Come _on!_ "

"You're two hundred years old; haven't you learned any other languages besides English?"

Jack blushed, looking at the ground again. "Fair enough."

Silence again. Then, quietly, so quietly Death barely heard it, "Can… can I join you?"

Oh, no. "Summer sprites again?"

"Yeah."

In response, Death unfolded his free arm from his side. Smiling slightly, Jack leaped over and lay down, curling into Death's side and laying his head on his chest, closing his eyes.

"Thanks, Dad," the frost spirit murmured, burying his face in Death's robe.

If he could have blinked, Death would have.

 _Did they beat the drum slowly,_

 _did they play the fife lowly?_

 _Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?_

 _Did the band play the Last Post in chorus?_

 _Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?_


	16. Chapter 12

**Okay, first off, disclaimer I completely forgot about for the last chapter. The italicized sections are the lyrics of a song called The Green Fields of France, written by Eric Bogle. The version I used is the one sung by The High Kings. Thank you so much for all these lovely favs, follows and reviews! I've had a bit of a backslide but I'm doing better than I was two months ago and I'm taking it one step at a time.**

 **Chapter 12**

 **November 1970**

If any of the spirits had been inclined to pay attention, they may have been concerned at the fact that Jack Frost seemed to have fallen off the face of the world. While the winter spirit had always been a loner, it was rare anyone saw him at all these days. Even during the colder months when he was usually out and about, whirling about with the Wind and whipping up snowstorms, bringing enough snow with him for sledding and snowball fights and all those other fun things children love to do in the wintertime.

The summer sprites payed no attention, nor did the rest of the seasonals.

Bunnymund's only response, had anyone asked him, would likely have been something along the lines of "Good riddance."

The Sandman, upon noticing the unusual absence of his occasional playmate, became slightly concerned, but of course he was unable to say anything about it.

Toothiana, being wound up as she was, did not notice at all.

North thought it strange that Jack Frost was not at his usual refuge at Burgess when Christmas came around.

Pitch Black couldn't really care less.

Coyote, Raven, the White Owl Woman and the elder spirits, if anyone had bothered to ask them, suspected they knew what Jack Frost was doing, and they were a little puzzled and slightly concerned. If what they suspected had indeed come to pass, then it would be the first time anything like this had ever happened. Death, after all, was not known for associating with the Moon's spirits, or really any class of spirit that wasn't ghostly in nature.

However, if someone had decided to take the young frost sprite under their wing, well… there was certainly no one more reliable, and they were happy that Jack had perhaps, at last, discovered his family.

* * *

As far as Jack was concerned, Death was not a bad parent. Not at all, actually. He was always willing to listen when Jack wanted to talk about something, would provide quiet support and a shoulder to cry on when necessary and always seemed to know when Jack needed a confidence boost.

He also didn't make a bad pillow.

He also wasn't worried about being frank when asked difficult questions.

"Why do they all hate me?" Jack muttered quietly, pressing his face closer to Death's chest and leaning into the gentle carding of skeletal fingers through his hair.

"Because you're different," Death answered simply. "And for most beings, different is frightening, something to be changed or avoided."

" _Why?_ "

"To be honest, I cannot fathom it," Death said. "To me, any difference that does not cause harm is refreshing, something interesting and new and potentially helpful."

Jack twisted in Death's embrace to look up at him. "You think I'm helpful?"

"Yes. You bring joy and a chance for renewal, do you not?"

Jack's face twisted in confusion. "The summer spirits always say that the only thing winter brings is cold and death… No offense," he added quickly. Death merely chuckled and resumed his stroking of the child's hair.

"In ancient times, winter was considered the season of rest and reflection, a time to look back on the old year and consider what could be done better in the new. It was also a time to consider fond memory and for peaceful rest before the work would begin again in spring, a respite for the Earth; a sort of incubation period, if you will. It was a season of death and endings, yes, but also the beginning of rebirth and a crucial part of the annual cycle."

Jack considered Death's words quietly for a few moments.

"You are important, Jack, and have just as much right to light and life as the summer spirits and all other beings do. Whatever else may come, _never_ doubt that."

Jack went utterly still then, looking up at Death with wide, shining blue eyes. Barely a second later he buried his face in Death's chest, hands grasping the black fabric of his robe.

"Thank you."

If Jack's voice was a little hoarse, Death didn't comment on it. Instead, feeling the child's trembling, Death began to sing as he once had when Jack would come to him after a particularly bad nightmare.

" _Once upon a time, many years ago,_

 _An archer lived in the woods all alone._

 _No friends had he but the birds in the sky_

 _The creatures of wood and the wind's gentle sigh._

 _He had the stars in the dark of night,_

 _The archer who lived outside world's sight._

 _Until one day it came to pass_

 _A fair maid came riding up the old forest path._

 _Fair she was, and gentle too,_

 _But this maid came with a trouble or two…"_

Jack was asleep before then, a small smile etched on his tear-stained face.

 **Peace and love to all those affected by the Orlando shooting. My best thoughts and wishes to you all.**


	17. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

Death decided he really needed to stop being surprised whenever Jack Frost latched onto him.

"Good evening, Jack," he said after Jack's exuberant "Hi, Death!"

"Are you riding with us, Jack?" Famine asked from where she was feeding her horse a sugar cube.

"Yup!" Jack said as he relinquished his hold on Death. "I can't let Mei down, can I?"

In response to that an indignant whinny sounded from somewhere amid the throng of Reapers and horses, much to the amusement of all present. An equally indignant mare, already saddled, came trotting over to the frost spirit, nosing his shoulder as though demanding if that had _ever_ been a question.

Death laughed. The little filly that had "saved" Jack from Bunny all those years ago had grown into a fine deathsteed and had bonded with Jack beautifully.

"I know, girl, I know! I would never desert you, beautiful girl!" Jack laughed, stroking his horse's neck and moving in for an equine hug. Mollified, Mei settled for nosing the hood of Jack's sweater.

Death's horse whickered quietly as his master mounted, War trotting immediately over to his side. Noticing that Death had mounted, all the gathered Reapers and Horsemen (and frost spirit) proceeded to mount their own steeds. Jack immediately guided Mei between Death and Famine, practically jumping in his saddle. Mei was also prancing excitedly in place.

At least she was until a boomerang whistled barely an inch past Jack's head, causing the frost spirit to duck in alarm and all heads to simultaneously swivel back in the direction the boomerang had come from.

"Frost! Don't ya listen when somebody's talkin' to ya!"

Of course no one was really surprised when the returning boomerang was caught by a very irritated Bunnymund, who had been standing in the shadows of a nearby alleyway.

"Been a long time, Frost. Winter of '68, I believe. Easter Sunday, wasn't it?" Bunny said, completely oblivious to the deadly glares he was getting from the vast majority of the Reapers (not to mention the highly ticked off Red and Pale steeds).

"Bunny," Jack said, lifting his reins and turning Mei about with a tap of the heel to her side. He grinned at the way Bunny's eyes widened in alarm when he recognized the horse. "You're not still mad about that, are you?"

Bunny's eyes immediately narrowed again. "Yes." Then his posture relaxed, and he returned his attention to the boomerang in his paw. "But this is about something else. Fellas."

A pause.

Nothing happened.

Puzzled, Jack turned around.

And found himself staring at Death and his horse keeping an eye on a pair of yetis in the alley behind him, shuddering where they stood (if Death had had a face at the moment, Jack got the distinct impression he would have been smirking). Then Jack noticed that one of the creatures was holding a burlap sack and whipped Mei back around to face the Easter Bunny, who was staring at the yetis with his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

"Fellas, what is wrong with you! Grab 'im!" he said, gesturing at Jack.

"Bunny, what is this about?" Jack asked lowly, narrowing his eyes. Mei snorted and pawed furiously at the ground, pulling against her bit just slightly. Many of the Reapers steeds took up the cue and mirrored her agitation. The yetis, unable to see them but sensing the shift in the atmosphere, shrank further back into the alley, babbling quietly and worriedly between themselves and to Bunny.

"Fellas, he's just a frost spirit! I know the horse is a bit of a surprise, but you guys are tall enough to yank him off!"

At this War's steed raised his head, snorting furiously and champing at his bit, his rider having to hold him back as he moved to take a step toward the already frightened yetis.

Jack smiled grimly. "I don't think you'll want to do that," he said as War laid a hand on her horse's neck and cooed softly to him, calming him down just marginally. "Now what do you want, Bunny?"

Bunny glared up at Jack, but the frost sprite didn't miss the shudder that ran through his fur as a few of the Reapers guided their steeds to close about him just a step or two; Jack could also see Pestilence toying with the string of his bow.

"North wants to talk to ya. Up at the Pole," Bunny answered.

Jack could feel his eyebrows climbing his forehead. "North? What for?"

"Nothin' important."

"Oh, really? When North's never asked you up there before?" Famine mused idly, toying with her horse's mane.

"Oh. Then I guess I don't really have to go," Jack said, turning Mei and trotting forward so she stood beside Death's horse again. War and several Reapers snickered as Bunny's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Frost, wait! Ya barmy little sprite, the Moon's chosen you to be a Guardian, okay?" Bunny shouted after him.

Jack froze, as did his horse.

"I thought that might be the case," Death said, half to himself as he turned his horse to face Jack and his steed. Jack looked at him questioningly, biting his lip, eyes shining. Death moved his steed forward and laid a skeletal hand gently on Jack's shoulder, gaze meeting Jack's bright blue eyes.

"You need not go if you do not desire it, Jack," Death said gently. "If you choose to, however, I will understand."

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. "How dare they? How dare _he_?" the frost sprite whispered.

Behind him, Bunny stiffened. "What did you say, Frost?"

"I said how _dare_ you!" Jack spat, wheeling Mei about so quickly she half-reared to achieve the maneuver. "How dare you, _all_ of you, after all this time, think that you can just waltz in, drag me over to your little hideout up at the Pole and dictate my life? After three hundred years of ignoring me? Of thinking me little more than an annoyance at _best_ , without even bothering to talk to me once in a while? I don't think so!"

Bunny's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Listen here now, ya uppity little sprite…,"

"No, you listen! I am not, nor will I ever be, a Guardian! I don't like you, Bunny, and my relationship with everybody else on your team is lukewarm at best. I'm not interested in joining a bunch of spirits who couldn't really give less of a damn about me. Good _night,_ Bunny!" Jack snapped.

Taking that as his cue, Death spurred his horse into the sky with a mighty whinny, the Wind whipping furiously about them. The Four Horsemen and Jack followed, the rest of the Reapers close on their heels, whooping and laughing with the joy of the ride.

Death's _aspect_ expanded, flowing outwards until it enveloped all of them in its mighty cloak. _Ride! Ride, Horsemen! It's the Wild Ride!_

The Four Horsemen took the lead, Jack sticking close to Death's side as their surroundings and the stars above them blurred, as they galloped higher and higher into the sky, moving further and further away from Burgess. The frost spirit gasped, then laughed as their flight finally leveled off high above the Earth. The ground and the clouds whipped away beneath them in a blur, the beautiful light of the Aurora Borealis and the setting sun shining above them as they galloped on.

Jack laughed again, Mei whinnying in excitement as her rider leaned back to catch the wind on his face. Death's steed let out another whinny, the other steeds answering him in kind; War's steed almost seemed to roar in his exuberance.

 _Ride! It's the Wild Ride!_

Jack laughed again, glancing over at Death as the Pale Horseman allowed more rein to slide through his hands and his steed lengthened his stride; Mei leaped forward to keep up. Death laughed, urging his horse onward. Mei whinnied in frustration as they continued to pull ahead, throwing her neck forward and lunging on. Jack leaned forward over his friend's neck, giving her her head.

This was probably the best moment of his immortal life.

 **Hi, everyone! Sorry I haven't updated in so long, I was on vacation for the past week and a half and wasn't able to type anything up. I apologize for worrying some of you (thanks for checking in on me, Rey!). Overall I believe I'm doing better than I have been in a while; I've had a few backslides, but overall I'm doing better. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing; I hope to have a new chapter posted soon!**


	18. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

It was a while into their ride that Jack and the others encountered the Guardians again.

"Hey, isn't that the Tooth Palace below us?" Jack called to Death as their steeds cantered through the sky.

"It is indeed," Death answered. After a quick glance down, he said, "And it looks like the Guardians are in a bit of trouble down there."

"What? Really? Seriously?" These and similar comments ran through the ranks of the Reapers. Death, sensing everyone's curiosity, laughed and began guiding his steed downward to follow North's sleigh. War rode right next to him, undoubtedly eager to see how the conflict would turn out.

The second they came level with North's sleigh, Bunny did a double-take upon seeing Jack riding a flying horse.

"Frost?! What in the blazes are you…," Bunny started.

"Duck!" Jack yelled, doing the same himself as what appeared to be a horse went charging past him, chasing several miniature tooth fairies. The second it came into contact with one of the Reapers, Ming, it exploded in a cloud of black sand, leaving Ming and her horse spitting and cursing rather inventively in their respective languages.

"Not powerfully bound, are they?" Famine mused while Bunny and North exclaimed in shock and the Sandman conjured up a sand umbrella to shield himself.

Jack, meanwhile, quickly stood up in his stirrups and snatched something out of the air. Sitting back down, he opened his palm to reveal a small, shivering tooth fairy.

"Hey, little Baby Tooth. Are you okay?" Jack asked softly.

The fairy nodded and smiled weakly. Jack smiled back and tucked the creature into the pocket of his blue hoodie, where she would be safe from the creatures attacking her fellows.

Jack, the Horsemen and Reapers followed the Guardians into the Tooth Palace; many of the black horses, upon sensing the approaching tide of Reapers, immediately broke off their attack of the fairies and began galloping madly toward any darkened patch they could reach. War and her steed chased several of them, War whooping exuberantly while her stallion nipped at the creatures' flanks, making them whinny in sheer terror. Famine giggled at their antics, while Death and Pestilence both gave the impression of wanting to roll their eyes.

They all gave a collective wince when North's sleigh crash landed on one of the lower levels of the palace, but their attention was immediately drawn away from the three disgruntled figures in the sleigh to the frantic fairy on the upper terrace.

"Tooth! Are you alright?" North called as Jack brought Mei to land on a balcony just behind and below the one Toothiana was on, beside Death and Famine.

"They… they took my fairies, and the teeth, all of them! Everything is gone!" Tooth cried as her fellows leaped out of the sleigh to her side. "Everything!"

At this despairing cry there was a fluttering in Jack's pocket. The little tooth fairy Jack had rescued earlier chirped happily as she whizzed out of his pocket, flying quickly over to Tooth.

Tooth's face lit up upon spotting the little fairy, and she reached out to cup it in her hands. "Oh, thank goodness! One of you is alright!"

"I have to say, this is very, very exciting. The Big Four, all in one place. I'm a little star-struck."

"Oh, wonderful. Tall, dark and creepy again," Solriss muttered as the shadowy form of Pitch Black materialized on a balcony above the Guardians. Tooth immediately began shouting at him while the Reapers snickered at Solriss's comment.

"I'm going to take a leap here and say he calls those new creatures of his…," War began.

" _Nightmares_!" Jack and Aditi said together.

"Ridiculously unoriginal," Death said, once again giving the impression of rolling eyes without actually having eyes to roll. Jack snickered.

"Wait a minute. Is that Jack Frost?"

Jack's head immediately snapped up, but Pitch's voice was echoing all over the palace. It was impossible to determine where it was coming from. Mei snorted, pawing at the ground.

"And on such a lovely steed, too. Since when are you all so chummy?"

"We're not," Jack muttered, looking warily around him.

"Oh, good." The voice was no longer echoing, and now was coming from behind them. Jack whipped Mei around to face Pitch, who was lounging on a pillar just opposite them and looking utterly bored.

"A neutral party. Then I'm going to ignore you," he said, beginning to turn away.

Jack could hear the smirk in Pitch's voice when he said, "But, you must be used to that by now."

"Ditto," Jack chirped.

The Reapers and Horsemen cackled. Death's steed whinnied his approval of the comeback while War's did his utmost to defy his rider's wishes and bite off the Boogeyman's arm. Jack grinned innocently when Pitch turned to glare at him.

"Want some ice on that burn?" Jack asked, again managing to sound like an inquiring child.

The Reapers cracked up again while Sandy laughed silently along. Bunny let out a single "HA!" before quickly covering his mouth with his paw while North gave him an odd look.

"I can see why no one acknowledges you now, Frost. You're nothing but an annoying little winter sprite, aren't you?" Pitch said, grinning like a shark now.

"Name-calling. You must have really struck a nerve," Death stage-whispered to Jack while Bunny, infuriated by that last dig of Pitch's, went to attack the Boogeyman. Jack giggled into his hand while the Reapers snickered.

Jack jumped when suddenly Pitch reappeared directly in front of Mei's nose, eyes focused on the horse.

"Such a beautiful girl," he smiled again, though less predatory now. Mei pinned her ears, throwing up her head in a clear threat. Jack, upon glancing up, realized that Pitch once again had the Guardians chasing after an echoing voice. For a moment Jack considered calling out to them for help.

Then Death shifted in his saddle just the slightest bit, cuing his horse to move ever-so-slightly-closer to Pitch, and Jack decided against it.

"Careful, she bites," Jack grinned while Mei attempted to do just that.

"I can see that," Pitch said dryly, moving deftly out of the way. "Where on Earth did you get a _spirit_ horse?"

"We just sort of… ran into each other one day," Jack grinned.

"Do NOT start punning, I get enough of that from Solriss and Famine!" Death groaned while aforementioned pair cackled.

Pitch rolled his eyes, then shouted in alarm when a black, feathered bird whizzed past his head.

"Raven!" Jack cried in delight when said spirit came to light on his shoulder. "Where have you been? I haven't heard from you in nearly a decade, you trickster you!"

Raven's face, however, was grave. "The Necromancer has struck again."

The smile fell from Jack's face. The Reapers went rigid, and as one all heads turned toward Death.

"The Necromancer? What nonsense are you on about now, bird?" Pitch snapped, not noticing the way Jack and Raven were both staring at something that was apparently not there.

"Ming, go with Jack back to Burgess. Raven, lead me to where you found the ghouls. War, Famine, Pestilence, find the other Elder Spirits. Tell them to be on their guard," Death dealt out orders in rapid succession.

"But…," Jack said, then remembered they had an audience. He bit his lip when Pitch looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Loneliness getting to you, Frost?" Pitch sneered once he'd recovered.

Jack glared. "You wish," he spat, turning Mei about to follow the departing Reapers as Raven launched himself into the sky to lead Death. "I have to go. Good-bye, Pitch."

Pitch grinned again as he watched the frost spirit dig his heels into his horse's side. The horse leaped into the sky with a whinny, and Pitch's grin grew into a smile as he watched the frost spirit get smaller and smaller against the darkening sky.

"Until next we meet, then. I'll see you soon, Jack Frost."

Neither Pitch nor Jack noticed the tiny little streak of green zipping off after the disappearing frost spirit.

Death sensed it, but he got the distinct impression she would be needed in the days ahead.

 **And here's a new chapter, everyone! It's a bit of filler, but I wanted to get something posted so you guys weren't waiting a whole month until I can get my butt back in gear again. I've had a bit of writer's block with this story recently, so if you guys have any suggestions I very much appreciate them! I have a general idea of where I want to go, but I'm not entirely sure how to get there! R &R, and thank you so much.**


	19. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

Death dispatched the last of the ghouls with a gentle touch to the forehead; the thing fell with a low moan, almost sounding pleased as its body disintegrated to dust in the wind. Whenever Death wished it, he would expand and intensify his _aspect_ so that anything that touched him died instantly, as was evidenced by the ring of dead grass about his feet. Raven was wisely keeping his distance, perched in a nearby olive tree.

The two were currently near Milan, Italy, where this latest batch of ghouls had been sighted.

Death drew his _aspect_ back into himself, enough that he was able to assume a more human appearance, and looked to Raven. "There were no more ghouls aside from those nine, correct?"

Raven shook his head. "Those were all I saw."

"The necromancer _must_ be close by, then. Those bodies were obscenely fresh, almost as if…,"

Death paused, examining the magical signatures close by. Then his lips drew back in a snarl.

"A _summoning ritual_. An incomplete summoning ritual, to summon and _bind_ me!"

"You?!" Raven asked, wings fluttering in alarm. "Who would… Who in all the realms would be stupid enough to even attempt such a thing?"

"Or desperate enough," came a quiet voice from behind the two. Death turned to face the new figure in surprise.

"Hel? What are you doing in the Living World?" Death asked. "Are you trying to contact your father again? I told you that should you need assistance…,"

"It's not that," Hel responded quickly, meeting Death's eyes. To his alarm, her one good eye was shining with tears.

"Hel, dear one, what is wrong? Why are you raising…?"

"I'm sorry," the Norse Goddess whispered, raising her arms, one full, one skeletal, into the air.

"Konungur skugga, ég svara símtali, og binda á þennan stað anda dauðans. Hann skal ekki vera út af einhverju spara þér, ó Drottinn forn helvíti!"

Death could do nothing as manacles blacker than a moonless night fastened around his wrists; he shouted in pain as he felt his _aspect_ bound as thin black chains looped themselves multiple times around his body and neck, fastening him to the place where he stood.

Panting, feeling the awful weight of the chains that bound him, Death raised his head to look at Hel, who was now crying freely, all but sobbing into her hands.

"You bound me... not in your name," Death wheezed as he struggled to raise himself to his full height.

"No being, not even a Ruler of the Dead, would be able to create chains like this. You bound me in the name of the Lord of Ancient Hell; what has my brother done, Hela?"

"I'm sorry," Hel sobbed. "I tried to warn you; the ghouls, I've been letting them free for centuries, small numbers at a time, to try to get you to turn your attention to Hell. It's Mephistopheles, he's… he…,"

Death, despite the fact that he was in the Living World, felt an awful chill run down his spine. "What has he done, Hel?"

"He's lost his mind. He's planning the Apocalypse; that's why he made those chains, why he made me bind you… He's ready to make his move."

* * *

Jack nearly hit his head on the ceiling of his cave home when Baby Tooth came whizzing into his cave home, chirping exuberantly.

"Baby Tooth! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed as the little fairy landed in his outstretched palm, rubbing her forehead against the pad of his thumb. After this brief greeting, she fluttered up above his hands a few inches and began gesturing madly toward the cave entrance and making other wild enunciations with her hands.

"Wait, wait, wait, slow down. You want me to… leave with you?"

A nod. More gestures.

"You want me to leave with you and… help the Guardians? Are you nuts? Bunny hates me, and after the thing at the Tooth Palace, I don't think the others will be too kindly disposed toward me either!"

The little tooth fairy frowned at him, crossing her arms.

Jack sighed. He _was_ bored here, but he hadn't heard from Ming or the others about the situation with the ghouls.

Then a thought occurred to him. The Guardians didn't know what was going on with the ghouls; if they ran into a set, they'd need someone who would be able to summon a Reaper or preferably Death to deal with the problem.

"Fine. Lead on, Baby Tooth."

* * *

The Guardians, as it turned out, were busy collecting children's teeth in the little tooth fairy's stead. Jack had to admit it was kind of fun competing with Bunny (although North definitely won with his giant bag).

The only real moment of contention had occurred when Jamie, the little boy from Burgess Jack had taken notice of a few days ago, had acknowledged everyone except Jack. The frost spirit was used to it by now, but it still hurt when humans (the living variety; he was known to all the ghosts) didn't acknowledge him in the slightest.

Which was why Jack had quickly excused himself and gone in search of Death.

And the entity was nowhere to be found; Jack couldn't even sense him across the strange bond the two of them shared, which meant he was either in the Realm of the Dead or suppressing his _aspect_ while he hunted for ghouls.

So Jack had flown to his next closest refuge; Tarrytown, otherwise known as Sleepy Hollow, in search of an old friend.

Jack was sitting in a tree in the Western Woods when the sound of galloping hooves had him looking up just in time to see a large black stallion with otherworldly red eyes go leaping over a log. His rider was crouched over his neck, dressed in black and silver armor with a thin white scar encircling the whole of his neck.

"Klaus!" Jack called as the pair landed. The Horseman's head lifted and he caught sight of Jack, then spurred his horse toward the frost spirit with a loud war cry. Jack smiled as he drifted to the ground while the pair galloped over, Daredevil skidding to a stop barely two feet from Jack's face. Prancing and snorting happily, the stallion pressed his nose into Jack's upraised palm.

"Hi, Daredevil! Sorry, I didn't bring any apples or carrots for you this time!" Jack said with a weak laugh.

"Jack, was machst du hier?" the Horseman asked.

"Ich fühlte mich einsam und ich konnte nicht Tod finden," Jack responded, still stroking Daredevil's nose.

Klaus frowned. "That is… troubling," the ghost said, switching to heavily accented English. "He usually comes when you call, yes?"

"Or flares his _aspect_ so I can find him," Jack responded. "He was out hunting ghouls last I heard, though, so he could be staying low-profile to try and catch the Necromancer."

"Hmm," Klaus responded, but he didn't look entirely convinced. "What brings you to the Hollow, Jack Frost?"

Jack sighed, turning away from Daredevil and sitting down among the roots of a large, twisted trunk. "I was working with the Guardians…,"

"Why in all the Living Realm would you do that?"

"They need all the help they can get," Jack said with a small grin. Klaus gave a predatory smile that showed off his sharpened teeth and sent a small shiver down Jack's spine.

"Anyway, you know the trouble they've been having with Pitch Black? Well, Pitch kidnapped Tooth's fairies and I went out to help them collect children's teeth. North accidentally woke up one of the kids… Jamie, someone I actually know… and, well… you know… he couldn't see me."

Klaus made a sympathetic sound; as one of North America's most powerful ghosts, he was visible to any human that crossed paths with him. He more often than not found it annoying, but he understood that it was Jack's long-held wish to be noticed by someone other than the Horsemen, ghosts and Reapers.

A loud yell from up in the sky drew the attention of both spirits; they were met with the sight of North's sleigh in the process of being surrounded by Pitch's Nightmares.

At that same moment Baby Tooth came streaking out of the sky toward Jack, twittering happily, then shrieking in alarm when she caught sight of Klaus and Daredevil.

"It's okay, Baby Tooth! It's okay! They're friends!" Jack shouted up to her. Klaus rolled his eyes and Daredevil snorted in amusement.

Thus reassured, Baby Tooth flew down right into Jack's face and began tugging at his hoodie, trying to get him up into the air, all the while chirping madly.

"You guys followed me? Why?" Jack asked in disbelief. Baby Tooth glared at him, crossing her arms and chirping furiously.

"I'm serious! You guys have never paid me any mind before! Why start now?"

"Warum, tatsächlich?" Klaus muttered. Baby Tooth probably didn't understand German, but she must have gotten the gist of it because she turned to the (formerly) Headless Horseman and chirped angrily. Klaus grinned at her, baring his sharpened teeth again and meaningfully laying his hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip.

"All right, knock it off you two! I'll go help them, Baby Tooth, but not because I want to join them!"

 **I am so, so sorry for taking so long to update, everyone! Midterms and life in general got in the way, but hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently between now and finals. R &R, everyone!**

 **German translations:**

 **Jack, what are you doing here?**

 **I was feeling lonely and couldn't find Death.**

 **Why, indeed?**


	20. Interlude: Halloween Special 2016

**Interlude: Halloween 2016 Special**

 **November 2, 1950**

Death was fairly certain no one but La Muerte had ever witnessed Xibalba in such a state. The Death God had practically melted into a puddle of tar under his wife's touch, eyes half-lidded, mouth open in a happy sigh as his wife laughed and returned his hug rather playfully.

"Did those two make up after their latest little family feud?"

Death chuckled. "No need to sound so disappointed, War."

Next to him on the roof of a relatively nice bar, War grumbled. Pestilence, surprisingly enough, had volunteered for duty with Famine tonight, supervising the reveling spirits in the northern hemisphere. As it was, several Reapers had dispersed themselves among the crowd of ghosts dancing across the hilltop in the town graveyard to make certain no one got a little too into the spirit of things and harmed the humans celebrating the Day of the Dead.

"Are you going to go down and dance soon?"

"Later; I prefer observing, for the most part," Death answered.

"You're always observing! Come on, live a little," War teased.

"Rather impossible, wouldn't you say?"

"My Lord Death," La Muerte greeted with a bow of the head as she and a still very much smitten-looking Xibalba made their way over. "Will you not join us in the fiestas tonight?"

"Perhaps in a few minutes, my Lady," Death responded with a slighter nod of his head.

"Make that a few hours," War muttered.

"Where has your little one gone? He was dancing with the little spirits not long ago," La Muerte wondered aloud, surveying the crowd of laughing spirits dancing in the graveyard.

Next to her, Xibalba snorted. "Probably to find something sweet, knowing that kid."

"A child after your own heart, no?" La Muerte said with a cocked eyebrow in her husband's direction while War snickered behind Death.

"Hi, guys!"

"Speak of the devil! Hi, Jacky-boy!" Xibalba laughed as Jack dropped out of the sky between La Muerte and Death, flecks of cinnamon sugar still visible on his lips.

"You've been into the churros again, haven't you?" Death asked while La Muerte chuckled and wiped the sugar off of Jack's beaming face with her thumb.

"What's wrong with that?" Jack asked defensively.

Death shrugged. "Absolutely nothing. I just figured you'd go for the sugar skulls first."

Jack's eyes immediately brightened while Xibalba laughed at his expression.

"Hey, Jack, would you like to go riding later? There's this beautiful snowy mountain peak that's really windy during the night, it seems like just the place for you," Xibalba said.

"Si, it is a wonderful place," La Muerte said, smiling as she took her husband's hand.

"Maybe a bit later, okay, Uncle Xibalba? Dad, will you come dance with me?"

War snickered while La Muerte and Xibalba grinned at Death.

"Dad, come on, it's Halloween week! This is, like, your time of the year! Come on!" Jack said, eyes pleading.

Death sighed inwardly. "If you insist," he said, taking Jack's outstretched hand as he called goodbye to Xibalba and La Muerte and allowing the child to lead him toward the other reveling spirits. "Have I taught you the Tlacolorerosis yet?"

"No. What is that?" Jack asked as they reached the edge of the crowd of laughing spirits, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"It is a traditional Mexican dance, often performed on the Day of the Dead. The spirits over by that large headstone are actually right in the middle of it. Do you see how they use those whips to accentuate the rhythm of the music? That is meant to represent the crackling of fire in the bushes during the cleaning of the corn patch. Now, to begin, you'll want to stand like this…,"

 **Just a short, sweet little special for Halloween 2016. Happy Halloween/Day of the Dead, everyone!**


	21. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

Jack stared out the window at the snow whipping around the North Pole, mindful of the tightness in his chest, the heaviness in his stomach as the Guardians mourned their fallen comrade.

Sandy wasn't dead; if there was one thing Jack knew, his father always, _always_ collected the Spirits and the Gods when their time came.

But Death had never appeared once during the entire battle with Pitch. Neither had any of the other Horsemen, nor had any of the Reapers.

Something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong.

Tuning out the ringing of the elves' bells as best he could, Jack turned his attention inward. He closed his eyes, searching for the strange tie that connected him to Death.

Nothing. Not even the faintest pull.

A bang at the window had Jack jerking out of his reverie with a start, nearly falling off the sill.

Glancing at the Guardians to make sure they hadn't heard anything, Jack quickly turned back to the window and looked down.

He could feel his eyes widening when he beheld the sight of the Red Horseman and her steed peering up at him; apparently War had thrown a snowball to get his attention.

When War gestured for him to come down, Jack dared another glance over his shoulder before opening the window and slipping outside. Shutting the window as quietly as he could, Jack glided down and landed gently in the snow just as War dismounted.

"What's going on?" Jack asked before War could even open her mouth. "I tried to contact Death earlier and I couldn't sense him! Not at all! I can always sense him! I mean, unless he's in the Realm of the Dead, but I don't think…"

War held up a hand and Jack immediately stopped talking.

"Death is missing," she said, face uncharacteristically grim. Jack felt for a second that his jaw had come unhinged with how low his mouth dropped.

"But… but… what? How can _Death_ go missing?"

"He does on occasion cloak himself from us when he wants to be left alone, but he always responds to urgent calls from us. The fact that he hasn't, to you or any of us, means he is unable to."

"But how is that possible? What could possibly stop Death?" Jack asked, gripping his staff closer to him, feeling his toes curl in the snow.

"There are only two beings capable of both trapping Death and keeping us from communicating with him."

"Who?"

"A more accurate question would probably be _what_. Death is one of three beings the rest of us refer to as Primordials. The other two are his siblings; the beings humans refer to as God and the Devil, the Primordials of good and evil."

"Wait, so all of that stuff is real? The Bible and whatnot?" Jack asked incredulously.

War shook her head. "No; none of the "holy books" humans have written are particularly accurate. They may get a few aspects and characters right here and there, but never everything. God, Death and the Devil could be considered triplets, but it is widely believed by many of the older beings that Death is slightly older than the other two."

Jack's only response to this was to stare blankly ahead.

"God has been MIA for dozens of millennia now, which essentially eliminates him as a suspect," War went on.

Realizing what she was getting at, Jack was jolted out of his earlier stupor by the sensation of his stomach dropping somewhere below his feet.

"The Devil has him?" Jack said softly.

"We believe so, yes."

Jack sat down heavily, running his fingers through his hair as he stared at nothing.

"What do we do?" the frost spirit managed eventually.

"We look for him, and try to figure out what Mephistopheles is up to that he deems it necessary to bind Death."

Jack nodded to nobody in particular. Then, exhaling heavily, he pushed himself to his feet.

"All right," he said, raising his head to meet War's gaze. "I'll call Mei and we can get going."

At War's raised eyebrow, Jack shrugged. "The Guardians won't care; I doubt they'll really even notice. This is more important than preserving children's belief, anyway."

* * *

Finding out what Mephistopheles was up to turned out to be the easy part. War figured it out fairly quickly when she and Jack were attacked by a horde of Jikininki demons in northern Canada.

"That infernal _bastard_!" War hissed as she slid her sword from the chest of the last demon. "He's trying to expand his domain!"

"Who? Mephistopheles?" Jack asked, guiding Mei out of the bushes they'd been hiding in.

"Yes!" War spat as she wiped her sword, covered in black blood, on the snow. "He's trying to create a literal Hell on Earth!"

Jack felt a distinctly unpleasant chill run down his spine. "How do you know?"

War gestured to the corpse her horse was pawing interestedly at. "These demons are native to Japan. They should not be able to spread so quickly without anyone catching on."

"So they had help," Jack surmised.

War nodded, baring her teeth in a wolfish snarl. "He's doing a typical divide and conquer; spread our forces thin, then slam us with a hammer blow one at a time."

"Would that work against you guys? I mean, if you intensify your _aspects_ everything that touches you dies instantly."

War shook her head. "Demons take a lot more power to kill than a human or a spirit. Your typical Reaper might be able to take out a few, probably a dozen or so, but more than that and they'd need to resort to physical combat or return to the Realm of the Dead and regenerate. Pestilence, Famine and I could last considerably longer, but we'd weaken eventually as well. And without Death to bolster our power, we'd weaken even faster. In other circumstances we could spread our influence among the humans and spirits to gain power, but in this case it would only help our enemies."

"Then shouldn't finding Death be our first priority?" Jack asked.

"Yes, and Mephistopheles knows it. He'll be watching us carefully and will move to intercept us if we get too close," War said, tapping the clawed fingertips of her gloves against her lips thoughtfully. She apparently ignored the way her horse had begun stomping on the corpses behind her. "He will not, however, be paying much attention to you."

"What?" Jack asked with a jolt.

"He won't consider you much of a threat; on the power scale you're far below us and most of the demons. The thing he'd be concerned about with you is your connections. You're connected with perhaps the most powerful being in the universe, and are connected with several other powerful beings associated with him. But you yourself he doesn't consider much of a threat. Which is why I need you to find Raven and get him to rally the Elder Spirits; we're going to need their help."

"Okay," Jack said, not entirely sure where the Red Horseman was going with this. Undoubtedly noticing his furrowed brow War went on, "I'll need their help to take on the freed demons. You, however, should keep looking for Death."

"What?" Jack practically shouted. "But you just said I have connections! I could help you mobilize the other spirits!"

"And that's exactly what Mephistopheles expects. He'll have prepared for it. Your connection with Death, however, is unique, something none of us understand. It is unpredictable, and that is exactly what we need right now."

Jack exhaled heavily, closing his eyes as he stroked Mei's neck for a moment.

Then he opened them. "All right. I'll go find Raven."

"Tell him to find as many Elder Spirits and Death Gods as he can. Once you've done that, find Black Shuck and one of the _cat sidhe_. They'll be able to protect you while you search."

Jack nodded, mouth set in a grim line. "All right. Good luck, War."

"Good fortune, Jack Frost."

 **Hello, everyone. I apologize for taking over three months to update this story, but my grandmother suffered a severe stroke and my family was working to take care of her. She passed away a couple of weeks ago, and all of this combined to bring about a bit of a relapse in my depression. I've already started working on the next chapter, though, so hopefully I'll be able to update again soon.**


	22. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

Mei moved along at a steady canter, Black Shuck loping easily at her left side while a _cat sidhe_ rode in front of Jack in the saddle.

Jack was greatly disturbed that he had been unable to find Raven. Recalling that the spirit had gone with Death to find the ghouls, Jack feared that Raven had been caught in the crossfire of whatever plan Mephistopheles had for Death.

Jack had, however, found the Leprechaun when he'd been searching for Shuck. The poor spirit had been terrified when Jack had told him what was going on, but he had agreed to tell whatever Elder Spirits he could find about the situation and get them to help spread the word.

So now Jack and his companions were travelling along England's western shore, hoping to find some secluded, hidden space where Jack could try to reach Death.

At least they were until Shuck suddenly let out a furious howl. Mei skidded to a halt, whinnying loudly in alarm while the _cat sidhe_ bristled, leaping out of the saddle with a yowl.

Hearing a series of loud whinnies from above, Jack looked up just in time to see a herd of Pitch's Nightmares descending upon them. Jack quickly dropped the reins and brought his staff up in a defensive position while Shuck and the _cat sidhe_ braced themselves on either side of him and Mei. When the Nightmares reached the ground, though, they didn't attack. Instead they formed a ring four deep around the winter spirit and his companions, snorting and pawing threateningly at the ground.

A tense standoff ensued for several seconds until a quiet laugh echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Well, well. Jack Frost, without his new Guardian friends. What a surprise; I would have thought you'd want to spend some time with the only spirits to ever pay attention to you."

"Pitch! I don't have time for this, what do you want?" Jack yelled, glancing around in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the Boogeyman.

Chuckling, Pitch emerged from a shadow a few feet in front of Mei, who pinned her ears at him.

The _cat sidhe_ leaped in front of the horse and pinned her ears as well, tail swinging slightly behind her as she began a low, singsong meow. Shuck kept staring at the Nightmares behind Jack and Mei, but by the way he'd cocked his ears Jack could tell he was paying attention to the conversation as well.

Pitch grinned. "My, my, more animals, Jack? Is that the best you can get?"

"Seems to be better than you; I didn't have to make them," Jack said with a raised eyebrow.

Pitch's smile turned into a mild glare while Mei whickered her agreement.

Smiling a little himself now, Jack said, "I ask again, Pitch, what do you want?"

Pitch's grin returned full force. "Why, simply to give you a gift, Jack."

A series of pinned ears and switching tails showed how much stock everyone present put in those words. Jack himself gave Pitch a deadpan look. In return, Pitch smiled congenially and pulled something from behind his back.

A golden box; a tooth case from Tooth's palace.

"Don't you want them, Jack?" Pitch asked softly. "Your memories?"

Jack was frozen in place, staring at the box as one would at an animal they weren't sure would bite or ask for a pat. Death had told him decades ago what the purpose of Toothiana's work was and that she may well have some of Jack's memories stored away in one of her little cases. He had told the frost sprite that she would likely give them to him if Jack asked, but Jack had been hesitant to do so. He knew from many of the ghosts he'd met that it was possible to recover memories of life through various processes; the easiest and least stressful of which was a process similar to meditation. Some may even regain memories over a period of time, usually while hanging around areas they had inhabited in life.

Jack knew that Burgess had always held a sense of familiarity, of home, to him. Death had confirmed that the lake Jack lived by was the same one that had claimed his life three centuries ago. As for the rest of his memories, Death said, it would be best if Jack recovered them on his own. There would be much patient work that needed to be involved, but all the Reapers and ghosts agreed that, for the dead at least, recovering memories slowly was the best course of action. Getting everything back in one go often had a devastating effect on the spirit, being too overwhelming to take in all at once. And if many of the memories were painful, they could easily turn the spirit malevolent.

Pitch took a step forward and Mei raised her head, ears flat against her head, sensing her rider's unease.

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "Scared, Jack?"

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Not of you."

Pitch laughed. "Maybe not. But you are afraid of something."

Jack's glare intensified. Pitch smiled. "Come now, Jack, give me a little credit. It's the one thing I always know; people's greatest fears. Yours is that no one will ever believe in you."

Jack flinched as though struck; deep down, he'd always known that was what he feared above all else, but to hear it spoken out loud was like a blow to the gut. The Nightmares whickered as though laughing. Mei whinnied furiously, rearing up and nearly sending Jack toppling off as she kicked at the Boogeyman with her front hooves. Pitch disappeared before the first blow could land, reappearing a few feet to the right laughing like the cat who'd gotten the canary. The Nightmares only got louder.

Then all sound ceased when everyone became aware of one sound; a low, menacing growl that seemed to emanate from the ground beneath their feet and the surrounding air.

Jack froze when he realized the sound was actually coming from Shuck. Turning Mei about, he saw that the great black hound and the c _at sidhe_ were standing tail-to-tail. The cat spirit pinned her ears to her head, claws kneading at the earth as she hissed. Her eyes were beginning to glow a soft white and her singsong meow began again, though now it was more haunting than before.

 _Do you want to play, little steeds?_

Shuck, meanwhile, had his eyes fixed on Pitch. His lips had peeled back in a snarl that showed his sharpened teeth; his form seemed to grow larger as Pitch's shadows gathered around him, his fur bristling and making him look more wolf than dog. Shuck flexed his claws as he dropped into a hunting crouch, eyes beginning to turn from yellow to glowing crimson red. The ground beneath his feet blackened where he stepped as he moved slowly toward Pitch.

 _You wish to test a hound of Death, Shadow King?_

A coldness that had nothing to do with Jack settled over them; white mist began to roll in too quickly for it to be natural. The Nightmares, instead of laughing now, shuffled about uncertainly, several of them snorting and whinnying in agitation. Pitch himself didn't move, but his eyes betrayed his alarm.

Mei also went to move toward the Boogeyman, but Jack gently held her back.

"Whoa," he said firmly. Glancing at the snarling hound, he said, "No, Shuck. Down."

Shuck gave a small growl of protest, but straightened out of his crouch and stopped advancing. The _cat sidhe_ also straightened up; both animals' eyes quickly returned to their usual color, but their tails were still twitching.

Tense silence.

Then Pitch turned to Jack and raised an eyebrow, looking not at all like he had just been threatened by a ghostly hound.

"Here," he said, tossing the golden box to Jack. Jack quickly brought his hands up, catching it purely on instinct. "Take it, with my good will."

"Oh, and, before I forget…," Pitch smiled. Not a nice one. "Happy Easter, Jack."

Jack had no time to react before a large shadow loomed up before him and Mei, swallowing them whole. Both sprite and horse screamed as they tumbled through the darkness, Jack falling from the saddle in the process.

When Jack finally rolled to a stop he immediately leaped to his feet, finding himself facing an earthen wall instead of a black hole.

"Mei!" he shouted, pounding a fist against said wall.

Something crunched under his bare feet.

Startled, Jack glanced down. The floor of this… tunnel was covered in painted eggshells. Crushed painted eggshells.

"What?" Jack said softly to himself, stepping over the shattered eggs and keeping wary eyes on the shadows as he moved toward the shaft of light he could see at the other end of the tunnel.

He emerged in an open glade surrounded by trees and bushes. Shielding his eyes against the sun, Jack saw the Guardians -Tooth and Bunny, at least- standing near a picnic table and a group of children.

"I can't believe it," a little girl was saying. "There's no such thing as the Easter Bunny."

"What are you talking about? I'm right in front of…," Bunny said incredulously, stepping toward the kids.

He stopped cold when one of them passed right through him, eyes going wide as he crouched in on himself.

Jack winced in sympathy.

"They can't see me," Bunny whispered, so quietly Jack barely heard him. "They can't see me."

"Jack!"

North's call had Jack jumping and whipping about to face the Guardian of Wonder as he approached the winter sprite, a harried look on his face. "Where were you?"

Jack's jaw dropped. "I…,"

"The Nightmares attacked the tunnels," North continued, swinging one of his swords for emphasis. "They smashed every egg, crushed every basket."

"Jack!" Tooth called, nearly giving Jack whiplash as he turned about to face her. She looked relieved as she flew toward him; then her eyes moved downward and she came to a halt, expression morphing into shock. "Where did you get that?"

Startled, Jack looked down; he hadn't even realized he was still holding the case Pitch had given him. He looked up again when Tooth gasped in horror.

"Where's Baby Tooth?" she asked, eyes darting frantically about as she searched for her missing fairy.

"What? She wasn't with me; I thought you guys…," Jack said.

" _That's_ where you were?" North asked, incredulity stamped over his features. "You were with _Pitch_?"

"With him? He popped up out of nowhere and literally threw this thing in my face, then shadow-dropped me and my horse! If it were up to me I wouldn't…!"

"He has to go."

Everyone fell silent, turning to face Bunnymund as he walked toward them, eyes downcast.

"Bunny…," Jack began.

Then Bunny's eyes snapped up to meet his; Jack drew back at the plain, searing rage he could see expressed there.

"We should NEVER have trusted you!" Bunny shouted, leaping forward with his fist drawn back.

Jack had done this so many times now he didn't even need to think. He grabbed Bunny's fist as the spirit threw it forward, stepping aside and guiding his assailant's paw downward. He gripped Bunny's arm just below the shoulder, twisting the joint in its socket as he brought Bunny to the ground, pinning him with one knee in his ribs and the other at his elbow, not letting up his grip in the slightest. Jack twisted his left hand slightly, drawing a pained yelp from his opponent.

"I hope you'll think twice before doing that again," Jack said lowly, hooded eyes staring Bunny down when he turned his head to face the winter sprite. "I could just as easily have broken your elbow."

Bunny's eyes widened, and he didn't even attempt to get up when Jack pushed himself to his feet. Painting an indifferent mask over his face, Jack didn't even look at the other Guardians as he grabbed his staff and leaped into the sky.

Knowing Mei, she was already on her way to Antarctica to meet him.


	23. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

When Jack landed on the ledge of ice that was his usual haunt in Antarctica, Mei was nowhere to be seen. Considering he had no idea where she'd ended up, the winter spirit decided it would be best to stay and wait for her for a little bit.

Sighing quietly, Jack sat at the edge of the ledge and crossed his legs, closing his eyes and laying his staff across his lap. The middle of Antarctica was about as secluded as you could get; here was as good a place as any for him to try and contact Death.

"I thought this might happen."

Or not.

"They never really believed in you; I was just trying to show you that. But I understand."

Jack turned and fired a blast of ice magic so quickly Pitch nearly didn't have the chance to block it. "You understand what, exactly?" Jack snarled, holding his staff in a white-knuckled grip as he walked down the ledge toward the Boogeyman.

"I know what it's like to be cast out, to not be believed in. To long for… a family," Pitch said, softly but emphatically.

Jack tilted his head slightly. _If only he knew._

"All those years in the shadows, I thought ' _no one else knows what this feels like_ '. Now I see I was wrong," Pitch said, a smile beginning to bloom on his face. "You don't have to be alone, Jack. I believe in you, and I know children will too!"

"In me?" Jack said, barely keeping from drawing away as Pitch walked closer to him.

"Yes!" Pitch exclaimed as Jack turned to keep him in sight. "Look at what we can do!"

Jack's eyes moved from Pitch, noticing for the first time the enormous pinnacle of blackened ice that had resulted from the collision of his and Pitch's power. It was… actually, with all the protruding spikes, it was a little frightening.

"What goes together better than cold and dark?" Pitch said, voice growing louder as his excitement mounted.

"Cold and death?" Jack muttered to himself.

"We can make them believe!" Pitch said, obviously not having heard the frost spirit as he began walking around the sculpture. "We'll give them a world where everything, everything is…!"

"Pitch Black?" Jack asked, giving the Boogeyman a deadpan look when he came back into view. Pitch paused, eyes moving back to Jack.

"And Jack Frost, too. They'll believe in both of us," Pitch said, smiling again.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "No, they'll fear both of us. And that's not what I want." He turned and began walking away from Pitch and frozen nightmare sand. "Now for the last time, leave me alone."

After a few seconds, Jack froze when Pitch's voice reached his ears. "Very well. You want to be left alone, done. But first…"

Heart skipping a beat, Jack turned around just in time to see Pitch raise a fisted hand, the little tooth fairy he'd met earlier clutched tightly within.

"Baby Tooth!" Jack exclaimed, leaping toward her with a hand outstretched. He stopped when Baby Tooth began squeaking frantically and shaking her head.

"The staff, Jack!" Pitch said, face twisting into a horrible snarl.

Jack brought his staff up, pointing the crook at Pitch in response. He didn't attack, though; he didn't want to risk hitting Baby Tooth.

"You have a bad habit of interfering," Pitch said. "Now hand it over, and I'll let her go."

Jack froze, ignoring Baby Tooth as she shook her head at him. There was no way he could risk attacking right now, but if Pitch took his staff… the staff was a major conduit for his powers. Without it, he would essentially be reduced to fighting hand-to-hand, which wasn't very efficient when going up against a magic-user.

Baby Tooth squeaked in pain as Pitch's grip tightened marginally and Jack gritted his teeth. Relaxing his grip, he held the staff out to Pitch, who took it with a smug smile.

"All right. Let her go," Jack said, holding his hand out.

Pitch's smirk widened. "No."

Jack blinked.

"You said you wanted to be alone. So _be alone_!" Pitch snarled.

Jack's eyes narrowed, feet shifting slightly to assume a fighting stance. He'd have to move quickly; Pitch couldn't see this coming, or he might harm Baby Tooth. Which also meant Jack couldn't botch his attack, he'd need to make the first hit count…

Jack's train of thought was interrupted by Baby Tooth pecking Pitch. The Boogeyman shouted in pain, throwing the squeaking fairy headlong behind Jack into the swirling storm.

"No!" Jack shouted, following her with his eyes until she fell out of sight. Hearing shifting snow behind him, Jack turned just in time to see Pitch break his staff over his knee.

Something inside of him snapped along with it.

Jack gasped, hands going up to grip at his chest, eyes wide with pain. They widened with shock when he realized that, for the first time in three hundred years, he felt… cold.

Jack didn't have time to react when Pitch flung a barrage of nightmare sand at him, throwing him back against a wall of glacial ice. Groaning in pain, Jack couldn't even think of trying to catch himself as he fell into a crevice of ice. Dimly he heard Pitch laughing above him, heard the clack of wood as the two pieces of his staff landed close by.

A small squeak drew his attention to a bundle of green and blue feathers lying close to the remains of his staff.

"Baby Tooth," Jack rasped as the fairy sat up slowly, smiling and tweeting a greeting when she saw him. Jack smiled weakly and tried to reach out toward her.

He barely had the strength to make his arm twitch. Even that effort exhausted him; exhaling heavily, Jack collapsed to his side. He barely heard Baby Tooth's alarmed shriek as she darted over to him, leaping onto his chest and grabbing frantically at his hoodie.

"Sorry, Baby Tooth," Jack whispered, not even able to lift his head to look at her. Not that it would have made much difference; blackness was seeping its way into the edges of his sight. "Looks like I won't be able to help you after all; not that I really did in the first place, anyway."

Baby Tooth's frantic tweeting only grew louder as Jack's eyes slid shut and his breathing began to slow.

* * *

Mei had made it to the tip of Africa when she felt it; her rider's connection to the living world was weakening.

The deathsteed came to a halt mid-stride, snorting and tossing her head, whinnying. Jack loved Death, loved her and the Horsemen and Reapers, but he couldn't leave this plane yet! There were still things he wanted to do, _needed_ to do! He couldn't play with the children if he died, couldn't protect them!

Mei whinnied again, rearing up and kicking at the sky. What could she do, _what could she do?!_

As suddenly as she'd started jumping about, she froze, ears pricked. From the thread that connected her with Jack, she could feel something else. It was… difficult to grasp, impossible to decipher, but it felt like _home, safety, belonging… family… love._

 _Leader. Trust. Lord. Death._

Mei didn't even pause to think. She turned about and took off, following the line of that connection at a mad gallop.

* * *

Death believed this was the closest he'd ever gotten to being comatose. At this point he might have even _wanted_ to go comatose, had he not been distracting himself from the constant pain by trying to puzzle out a way to break through the chains. Shapeshifting didn't work; they just shifted along with him. There was _something_ -likely a bit of Mephistopheles' core power, since he was _actually_ immortal- keeping Death from using his _aspect_ to break them. And since he was completely immobile, manually working his way free wasn't an option either. His _aspect_ was restricted to his physical form, so manipulating the environment wouldn't work…

A quiet, choked _croak_ drew Death's attention briefly to the bloodied form of Raven, lying on his back with his mangled wings spread out to either side. There was a gaping hole in the spirit's throat and chest, and his neck was at a horrible angle.

The hellhound that had done the deed sat a few feet away from Raven, eyeing Death curiously now and then when it deemed guard duty too boring.

Death flexed his fingers, the only outward sign of his agitation. He should have by all rights reaped Raven a day ago; his injuries were mortal, but Death being bound as he was meant he was unable to do his job.

And it was _awful._ He could feel Raven's pain, physical and emotional, and it grew stronger with every passing hour. Death had tried time and again to use that connection to break the enchanted chains to no avail. Raven had realized what he was doing and had initially tried to offer what assistance he still could. Unfortunately, the hellhound had realized what they were doing and had proceeded to snap Raven's neck and crush him beneath its paw, causing horrible burns on top of the pain of pressure on his chest wound.

Death didn't think he'd been this angry for centuries, perhaps a millennium or two. And since his power was bound, he could do nothing about it.

A sudden coldness in the region of his chest had Death lifting his head, staring vacantly at the wall of the cave he and Raven had been taken to as he fell into himself.

 _Coldness, numbing, painful. Can't breathe, can't move. Chest hurts… everything hurts… a breaking spell that grates against his senses…_

 _Jack._

Death went completely still. The Moon's spell had been broken somehow; Jack was dying. And he would be stuck in that horrid state until Death was free.

The entity closed his eyes, moving his thoughts to calmness, as he focused on the thread that had formed between him and the little sprite three centuries ago. He tried to cast his senses along the line so he could locate the boy; the chains prevented him from getting very far.

But he got farther than he had with Raven; there was something _else,_ some other bond with Jack and himself that was bolstering his power. Death smiled when he realized who it was.

 _Mei._ Jack's ever-loyal deathsteed.

And before long another bond joined hers; Death immediately recognized the presence of his own horse, galloping beside Mei as they followed the pull towards him. Death redoubled his efforts and reached out to them, this time able to faintly brush against his steed's mind.

Shortly thereafter there was a clatter of hooves at the cave entrance and two furious horses were charging inside. The hellhound guard never knew what hit it; Death's horse had grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and thrown it into the cave wall hard enough to cause a minor quake before it could stand. Mei, meanwhile, had busied herself examining the points where Death's chains were fastened into the stone floor. When Death raised his hands, both horses immediately stepped over and pressed their noses into his palms.

Through his connection to them, Death could reach even further into the world, immediately seeking out the three aspects of himself he had separated oh so long ago.

 _Pestilence, War, Famine!_

The other Horsemen responded immediately, reaching back along the link and sending the power he had given them all those countless ages past back to him.

Death's _aspect_ swelled.

The chains shattered as his human form melted away.

The horses whinnied loudly as Death's power washed over them, rapidly spreading through the cave, over the continent of Europe and further, until all creatures under the sun and beyond could feel it. The Reapers, steeds, ghosts and Horsemen cheered uproariously, power renewed even as the demons quailed beneath the dark wave.

Death was free. _And he was not happy._

First things first, though. He had a few things to deal with.

Death turned his gaze to Raven's now still body. A flare of his _aspect_ and it vanished in a swirl of shadow, the last vestiges holding the spirit to the living world were cut.

A moment later there was a flutter of wings, and Raven landed on his shoulder, rubbing his head against Death's hood. Death reached up a hand, stroking two skeletal fingers over his back.

 _I am sorry you had to suffer so, my friend. Fare thee well in my realms, Raven._

Raven gave a single wordless _caw_ before leaping off Death's shoulder, streaking toward the top of the cave and disappearing in a flash of blue.

Death raised his head, eyeless sockets gazing at the ceiling as he directed his thoughts across the globe to his servants. _If it is within your capabilities, finish the demons you are fighting. If not, you and those of you who are not fighting return to the realm of the dead. I will join you there shortly._

There was a chorus of agreement, and Death could feel the other Horsemen begin to move to assist any of the Reapers they felt needed it. Satisfied that they would be able to take care of things, Death quickly turned about and mounted his horse. Mei charged out of the cave as soon as he was settled and Death spurred his steed after her. Less than a second later they were galloping through the sky, racing faster than a hurricane's wind.

* * *

Jack would have cried if he'd had the strength when he saw the figure standing above him; his vision of Baby Tooth seemed distorted by a kaleidoscope of glass, but Death he could see as clear as day.

"Dad," he whispered through his burning throat, trying to raise his arms even though he knew there was no way he could.

"Hush, now. There's no need to speak," Death said softly, kneeling by Jack's side as he reached out and placed a skeletal hand against the spirit's cheek. Jack closed his eyes as he leaned into the touch.

 _Am I dying?_

 _Jack, you died several minutes ago. You couldn't move on because you have been bound to this realm for too long._

Jack dimly felt that he should be distressed by this news, but he was so exhausted, and Death's voice in his mind was so gentle and soft and he felt so _warm_ that Jack just couldn't muster the will to do so.

 _Will you take me then, Dad? Please?_

Jack got the impression of a laugh in his mind, and then he felt a pair of arms lifting him and cradling him against a black-clothed chest. He felt Death move; the entity's grip on him barely shifted as Death hauled them both into the pale steed's saddle.

 _I would allow it to none other, my little one._

* * *

 **Story is** _ **not**_ **over! I'm moving through a ton of stuff in the next chapter, so bear with me! (And yes, I killed Jack. I'm evil and there's nothing you can do about it.)**


	24. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

Death was not at all surprised at the size of the party waiting for him when he entered the Realm of the Dead with an unconscious Jack in his arms.

More than half the Reaper corps had shown up, along with dozens of death fey and what looked to be nearly all of Earth's Death Gods.

As expected, the other three Horsemen were the first to greet him, gathering about him as he brought his horse to a stop. They were dismounted, they and their steeds getting as close as they dared to Death without disturbing Jack.

"Poor sprite," Famine murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of Jack's face.

"It's about time though," War muttered, expression tight. "Kid's been essentially dead for three hundred years, he deserves some peace and quiet."

Pestilence simply hummed what seemed to be an affirmation as the three steeds took turns gently nuzzling Jack with their noses. When they stepped back, Death nudged his horse into a slow walk down the pathway the gathered crowd had formed for him. Persephone tucked a small white daisy behind Jack's ear, whispering softly to him in ancient Greek. Black-haired Hades wrapped an arm around his wife and nodded to Death, laying a gentle hand on one of Cerberus' heads when the hound whined softly.

Anubis and Osiris were both silent, simply dipping their heads in respect. The Emperors of Youdu bowed deeply. Kalma and her sisters were next, then Xibalba and La Muerte, Cernunnos, Yama, Camazotz, Morrigan, Hel, Erlik, and dozens of others.

When they reached the end of the seemingly endless line, Death gently nudged his horse into a canter, guiding him in a very specific direction.

* * *

Death's horse snorted in approval when Death brought him to a halt in front of a decent sized two-story farmhouse in the Fields of Asphodel. They weren't nearly as drab as myth made them out to be; green grass as far as the eye could see, dotted with meadows of flowers and orchards of fruit trees the spirits that lived here chose to cultivate. Beloved pets ran about with their deceased human companions while a variety of wild animals romped in the unclaimed fields.

As Death dismounted, the door of the cottage opened and a young sheepdog came bounding out, barking at the top of its lungs.

" _Oh, goodness, must dogs ALWAYS be like this?"_ Death's horse muttered as the canine wove between his legs, yipping all the while. When he didn't stop after a few moments, the horse lowered his head and stared the dog directly in the eye. " _I will EAT you, dog, if you do not cease this nonsense immediately."_

Yelping with fright, the dog darted back to the door, ducking beneath the legs of the brown-haired woman who'd opened it.

She'd been in her late thirties when she'd died, Death remembered; her features were as youthful here as they'd been the day she passed. Brown eyes widened in surprise when they fell on him, and she quickly dipped her head.

"Lord Death," she murmured, giving a quick curtsy.

"There is no need for formality, Sophie," Death said. "I come bearing rather… bittersweet news."

The woman raised her head with a frown tugging lightly at her mouth. Then her gaze fell on the bundle in Death's arms and her eyes widened, filling with tears as her hands flew to her mouth.

"J… Jack?" She whispered, eyes flying to meet Death's gaze. "Is… is it… truly Jack?"

Death nodded. "Yes. He has finally passed."

"You… you're the one who retrieved him?"

"Yes. I brought him here so that he may be reunited with his human family; he has no memory of you, but I do not doubt that he still holds you dear to his heart."

"Thank you," Sophie whispered, a tremulous smile visible behind her palms. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for watching over my brother."

Death dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I do not know what he will remember when he wakes; I'd suggest you take things slowly when reintroducing yourselves."

Sophie nodded, carefully taking Jack from Death's outstretched arms. "I will be," she whispered, tears streaming unchecked down her face. She smiled. "Wait until he learns I married his best friend!"

* * *

Jack woke to see an unfamiliar woman staring down at him. His brow furrowed… no, she wasn't unfamiliar… she…

The woman smiled at him. "Not in a tricky mood, Jack?"

Something clicked.

"Sophie!" Jack cried, launching himself forward and wrapping his arms around her so tightly it was surprising he didn't break a few ribs. She held him back just as tightly, not noticing or not caring when he buried his face in her shoulder, soaking her dress with his tears. When he raised his head again, he saw two more familiar-unfamiliar people standing in the door, clutching each other's hands, tears shining in their eyes as they watched him and his sister - _his sister-_ hold each other.

"Mom! Dad!"

Two more bodies soon joined the hug-fest, and then three more – " _You married DAVID?! Why?!" "Thank you so much, Twig!" "Jerk! And you had KIDS?!"_ – and soon there was a huge pile of people in the room as Jack was introduced to his extended family- Father and mother in-law, a nephew and niece, three grand-nieces and five grand-nephews, and several more great-grand nieces and nephews. There were plenty of tears, even more laughter – it was a very good thing spirits didn't need to breathe- and after hour upon hour everyone piled out the backdoor to the patio. Mei whinnied exuberantly, trotting over from where she'd been grazing under the apple trees, nosing Jack until he finally gave in and gave her a hug (and Sophie gave her a sugar cube).

"Wait… where's Death?" Jack said suddenly, glancing back at everyone from where he was scratching Mei's head. His family shared looks amongst each other.

"We don't know. He left right after he gave you to us," Sophie said, holding David's hand.

"He is likely in council with the other Horsemen and elder Reapers," Jack's father said. "There is still the threat of Mephistopheles to deal with."

"He will come and speak to you at a later date," David said. "I don't believe he's asked you how you wish to spend your afterlife."

Jack blinked, baffled for a few seconds, before realization dawned. "Oh. Yeah, you're right, he hasn't asked me yet."

The looks that passed between his newfound family didn't escape his notice.

"You've already decided, though," Sophie said, as though not quite certain of her words.

Jack ducked his head. "Yes. I'm glad to see you again, Sophie, David, Mom, Dad. And I'm glad to have met the rest of you, I really, truly am, but…,"

"Jack," Sophie interrupted, laying a hand on his arm. Jack raised his head, mirroring his sister's smile when he saw her face. "We love you. No matter what you choose, we'll love you."

"Yes," their mother said quietly, coming to kneel beside Sophie while their father stood beside her with a hand on her shoulder. She smiled at Jack; Jack's own smile widened and no, those were not tears he was feeling in his eyes, thank you very much.

"And we will always be proud to call you family," Jack's father said.

Jack's face crumbled as he launched himself into his family's arms. There were certainly tears, but, well. You could hardly call that surprising.

* * *

As David had said, Death eventually returned to speak with Jack.

It was the middle of the night, as far as Jack could tell when he woke and found himself in his room (his room!), not entirely able to say what had roused him. Jack almost didn't see him, standing in the corner by the door; his black robes made him look more part of the shadows than anything else.

"Death!" Jack shout-whispered. Before Death could respond, Jack had leaped out of bed and wrapped him in what to a human would probably have been a bone-crushing hug.

Jack buried his face in Death's chest as he felt the entity's arms wrapping around him, one skeletal hand carding through his hair.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for returning me to them."

"And I was to do what else, precisely?" Death asked. He didn't comment on the tears soaking the front of his robe.

Jack just clutched at him more tightly, staying pressed against his taller form for the boy didn't know how long.

When he at last pulled back and met Death's gaze, the entity said, "I trust you know why I'm here."

"Yes. I want to become a Reaper," Jack said.

Death tilted his head slightly.

"I know you might think it's sudden," Jack said quickly. "But I've thought about this for a while… like, I was thinking about this _way_ before I died. The second time, I mean. I'm really happy and really grateful you returned me to my family, but with what's going on in the living world right now and seeing what you and the Reapers do…,"

"If you were still alive, I'd be telling you to breathe," Death interrupted, amused. "I know how firm you are in this decision; I can sense the state of your being much more clearly now that you are fully dead. And I will gladly accept you as one of my Reapers."

Jack's expression would have lit up some of the deepest caverns Death had ever visited. The entity laughed softly, running a hand through Jack's hair again. "Go back to bed; I will return in the morning and we can begin your training."

* * *

 **Hello, everybody! Sorry for the super late update; there's been another death in the family and some people aren't handling things very well, so the rest of us are trying to get them back on track. Thank you for your understanding; I have a general idea for the next couple chapters and I'll try to get them written ASAP.**


	25. Chapter 20

Chapter 20:

"This is…,"

"I am aware. Just remember to keep your awareness anchored in some way; it is possible to lose yourself while reading your surroundings."

"It's just… I'd never really thought about how you affect things on such a large _and_ small scale," Jack said, eyes distant as he gazed around the glade he and Death were standing in.

"Most don't," Death responded. "Decaying molecules and dying galaxies can be fascinating to observe from time to time, though."

" _That's_ probably the biggest difference in scale I could've… wait, _galaxies_ die?" Jack said, eyes focusing on Death as they widened.

"Of course; everything does," Death answered.

"Well… yeah, I guess, but they're not alive."

"I am an anthropomorphic representation of the end of existence; I choose to appear in this form because this is similar to what many of the beings here perceive death to be. A form makes it easier to interact with other beings and tends to make them more comfortable in their dealings with me, but it is not necessary to perform my function."

Jack just stood and blinked for several moments.

"I'm not even going to try to wrap my head around that right now."

There was a sound like sand blowing across a road, and Jack realized Death was laughing. "Likely for the best. Were you able to perceive the local balance of energies?"

"Yeah. I… I can't really describe how it felt," Jack said, awed. Then he ducked his head. "I'm… still a little nervous about... you know."

"That is hardly surprising; it takes Reapers time to acclimate to their new responsibilities, as well as come to grips with the necessity of their function."

"I know that you don't… that _we_ don't actually kill people, but at the same time it's a little hard to differentiate between killing and reaping in my mind. It's like there's a difference between knowing and _knowing,_ if that makes sense," Jack said.

"You will come to understand it fairly quickly, I think," Death said. "You have encountered many varieties of ghosts; you are familiar with some of the consequences a soul may encounter if they are not allowed to die."

"But some people choose to stay behind, don't they?"

"Yes, and they often regret it. Or would, if they still had the presence of mind to do so. Poltergeists, for example. And you know that some are bound to the living world against their will, which causes other kinds of pain."

"Like Klaus, you mean? But he seems happy enough."

"That was most certainly not the case initially; being under the control of a black magic user is akin to being trapped in an iron maiden buried in a bed of hot coals is the gist of what I gleaned from him. Once he was freed, he was determined to ensure that the residents of Sleepy Hollow would never fall under such a curse again."

"He had a purpose," Jack said, comprehension dawning.

"And he was not grieved about leaving someone behind; he had nothing to pine after and retained a sense of self. Nothing held him there and he was eventually able to travel between the worlds of the living and dead without much hindrance."

"He's strong enough that he can cross over and rest when he needs to, and there's no sort of emotional pain driving him mad," Jack said.

"Yes. He is one of very few ghosts able to do so," Death said. "Now, keep your focus, Jack. Can you feel his life energy?"

"Yes," Jack answered, eyes mostly closed as he crouched next to the elk lying in front of them. It was a large bull, of advanced age if the grizzled hairs on its face and chest were anything to go by. A bit more probing and... "He's almost seventeen," Jack announced.

Famine hummed an affirmation from off to the side. "Elk in the wild rarely live to his age. In lean times, the elderly and the sick are the first to go."

"It seems kind of sad, that he has to die before he gets there."

"Nature is red in tooth and claw, Jack, and Death will always claim his due. It doesn't matter what milestone you may be about to reach," Famine said.

"I'm standing right here, you realize," Death said dryly.

The elk gave a quiet groan, barely even audible. Death stepped forward, bending down and laying a gentle hand between the creature's antlers.

It immediately went limp, body slackening as though in relief.

Gathering his nerve, Jack came to stand beside Death and placed his hand on the animal's muzzle. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he processed the brief impression of the elk's feelings he caught as the creature's spirit examined him. Jack gave it a gentle nudge and the spirit leaped past him as though it had already known where to go.

Jack was surprised that there had been a sort of... awareness of what was happening in the elk's mind. Animals didn't think the same way humans did, but they could certainly feel. The elk had known he was dying, but he hadn't been frightened about it. Jack wanted to say it seemed like the animal had been accepting of his death.

The former frost spirit opened his eyes, looking at Famine and Death as he stood.

"You seem remarkably accepting of this," the Black Horseman said.

Jack shrugged. "It's natural, just like you said. He was too old and too weak to compete with the others, and it's probably better he die this way than be torn apart by wolves or mountain lions."

Famine nodded in acknowledgement. "Slower, yes, but a bit less painful. Well done, Jack."

Jack smiled. It vanished almost as quickly as it had come when he ducked his head. "I'm... I'm still afraid of... of reaping my first human."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Famine smiling at him. The way Death's head was tilted indicated he would be doing the same if he wasn't a skeleton. "So is everyone, Jack. It would be concerning if you weren't."

Jack smiled tremulously back. "Should we go?"

"Yes," Death said. "I have an appointment in Japan."

* * *

Most mythology would lead you to believe Death could be found walking through a graveyard. In truth, Death spent most of his time in hospitals, nursing homes, battlefields and other such places. He had no business with the already dead.

It was in a hospital the entity stood now, waiting at the foot of a bed in a delivery room. He watched, invisible, as the doctors and nurses worked frantically to assist the woman on the bed through her labor, her husband sitting anxiously on the bench against the left wall.

The woman, Ayuna, cried out through another contraction, gripping the sides of the bed in whitened fists. The sheets beneath her were stained with blood.

Too much blood; it wasn't clotting properly. Death could also feel the internal bleeding the doctors were as yet unaware of, though it was a common enough incident in child birth. There was no blood or plasma on hand to replace it.

Death drew the hourglass pendant from his robe; golden brown sand fell quickly through the center.

At this rate Ayuna would die long before she gave birth, and the child would die with her. There was no way a Cesarean or a blood transfusion could be performed in time.

Ayuna's scream at the next contraction drew Death's attention back to her. Tears and sweat mingled on her face. When she opened her eyes, Death could see they were beginning to glaze over.

'Not my baby. Please, oh, God, please don't let my baby die.'

Death would have blinked if he could have. Then, to his surprise, Ayuna closed her eyes and gritted her teeth through the next contraction, pushing with everything she had. The moment it was over, the woman's head fell back and her eyes slid closed. Her breathing began to slow, heartbeat following in short order.

It still wasn't enough.

Death, ignoring the doctors moving to begin CPR, moved to the head of the bed. He removed the hourglass pendant from his neck and held it above the woman's head. It began rotating, slowly at first, but sped up quickly. Eventually it was spinning so rapidly it was barely visible.

When it slowed to a stop, a spiral of golden sand fell seemingly from thin air into the top of the glass. The timepiece vanished in a flash of white, and a trickle of golden brown sand drifted down onto Ayuna's face.

The woman's eyes snapped open.

Death moved back to the wall as Ayuna's husband rushed to her side and the doctors crowded around her again.

Twenty-five minutes later, Death felt the glowing warmth of a newborn soul enter the world; a baby girl, strong and healthy, he knew without needing the doctors to say it.

Ayuna's pained smile when the doctor laid the child in her arms would have cracked even the most stone-cold heart. Her husband's grin when he looked down at their daughter split his face, and he placed a warm kiss on Ayuna's cheek.

Four minutes later, Ayuna looked up. Death could tell simply by the way her eyes focused that she could see him.

The woman looked down at her daughter again and smiled, cooing softly at her. She kissed her daughter's forehead before sitting up, and promptly fell back against the pillow, a soft smile on her face.

Death stepped forward the moment her heart stopped beating, gently pulling the soul free. It needed essentially no guidance on its way; Ayuna knew she was dead and had accepted it.

The child, however, wasn't familiar with the concept. Death could feel the young soul seeking for its lost parent, eventually reaching toward him.

'No,' Death told it softly. It pulled back, confused. Why were such young souls so perceptive?

'Yes, I did take her away,' Death said when the soul reached for him again, questioning. 'But I will not take you. She wants you to stay here. She fought to keep you from me, and I have no reason to go against her will. I hope we do not meet again for a very long time, little one.'

The soul pulled back, saddened for a moment, before returning its attention to the signals of its body. One good thing about these young souls; they were easily distracted and their memories were very short.

Death turned and walked through the door. He was met with the sight of Jack and Famine standing in the hall, watching him.

"You gave her more time," Jack said quietly, eyes suspiciously bright as he observed the child cradled in her sobbing father's arms, the man's free hand clutching his dead wife's.

"I came to take _a_ soul, not two. The mother would have died regardless of what was done at that point, but there was no reason for them both to die."

"There was no reason for either of them to die, if you think about it," Famine muttered darkly. Jack glanced between the Horsemen in surprise when Death nodded assent.

"Excessive bleeding is a common complication during childbirth; having blood and plasma on hand during delivery could prevent close to two thirds of maternal deaths. Unfortunately, there is so much emphasis on delivering a healthy child in many countries that care for the mother during and after the birth is an afterthought, if that," Death explained. "Countries in the European Union and a few other areas in Asia have wisened up about it recently, but in other countries it is still a significant problem."

Jack looked at the ground, lips pursed. He didn't seem all that surprised anymore. He looked up again after a few moments.

"Can all Reapers give someone extra time? Or is that just you?"

"I am the only one with the ability," Death said. "If a Reaper believes they have a worthy case they may call me, but that happens only rarely."

Jack nodded his understanding. The three spent a few more moments observing the chaos in the delivery room before Death began leading the way back out onto the street.

They had just made it to the edge of the sidewalk when a figure to the left caught everyone's attention.

It was Ayuna. She was transparent, wearing a simple blue dress. She smiled at Death, dipping into a curtsey. Death, standing before the others, nodded in acknowledgement of the gesture. The spirit straightened again.

"Thank you," she said softly, with a final smile at Death. Then she was gone, just as quickly as she had appeared.

Famine and Jack stood slack jawed. Death remained still for a few seconds, but Jack would swear forever after that the shadows falling on his face made it look like the entity was smiling. Then he turned, and the moment was gone.

* * *

It was three days later when Jack found himself standing in a hospital room himself, watching from the sidelines, invisible, while a family said goodbye to an elderly woman lying in the bed.

Her eyes had closed several minutes ago and Jack could feel her life ebbing away.

A younger man, her son, Jack deduced, took her hand the moment the young Reaper stepped forward. A second later, the woman, Mathilda Black, took her last breath.

Jack hung back for a moment as Mathilda's spirit became visible to him, standing by the bedside and blinking down at her still body.

"Good evening, Mathilda," Jack greeted with a smile when she raised her head again. The spirit's deep brown eyes turned toward him. She smiled back.

"High time I got going, is it?" she asked.

Jack grinned. "Don't sell yourself short; 93 is a perfectly respectable age."

The woman's smile broadened. Jack held his hand out to her and she took it without a moment's pause. He turned and led the spirit toward the door.

They disappeared before they reached it.

* * *

 **Hello, my faithful!**

 **I am so, so sorry for the long wait! I'm doing okay, but I took classes over the summer and now that the school year is back in full swing I haven't had much time to write. I've started brainstorming for the next chapter and hopefully some of my professors will calm down and quit assigning so much homework. I'll update when I can, I swear!**


	26. Chapter 21: Halloween 2017

**Chapter 21:**

Jack closed his eyes as he leaned back on the park bench, letting his head drop so it faced the sky. It had been close to a year since he'd become a fully-fledged Reaper, and he could say beyond a doubt he was pleased with the decision. It had been difficult at first, especially when he'd started reaping younger souls, but Death and the others had been there to help him through that rather steep learning curve; it had helped when he saw and heard the pain of souls who were unable to pass on.

That was one thing that had him and all the other Reapers furious with Mephistopheles at the moment; the bastard had more recently begun trying to steal souls before they were properly sorted, and the way they _screamed_ … even if they were only trapped for a short while, they were so confused, so _scared_ , in so much _pain_ , Jack could barely begin to fathom it. He could empathize to a degree; he'd felt the same before Death had found him when he'd been 'reborn', and that made things so much worse.

No one else seemed to be faring much better. The Reapers were all paranoid, most of them latching onto dead souls like angry clams no matter how unnerving it was to their charges. Pestilence had lost some control of his _aspect_ and would infect any living thing that got within five feet of him with all manner of illness, from the common cold to septicemia. Famine and War had managed to deal with it a bit more constructively; Famine would seek out groups of demons and get them to devour each other while War would just rip them to shreds or get them to do it themselves. Some of the weaker ones would explode if she even got close.

Well, Death seemed unruffled if you didn't probe too much, but _damn_ if you looked too deep…

Jack didn't understand why Mephistopheles wasn't running to the opposite end of the universe and staying there for the next five million years.

At least it was Halloween; the Death Gods and their servants were out in force. Very few demons were strong or stupid enough to show their faces with this many powerful beings out and about.

A shift in ambient energy had Jack opening his eyes, looking to the roof of a café across the street.

Pitch Black emerged from the shadows, a pair of Nightmares on either side of him. The people on the street below immediately hunched their shoulders, tugging jackets tighter and pulling hoods over their heads. No one dared make eye contact with anyone else; all the humans hurried along, rushing to get home before night fell fully.

Pitch had undoubtedly become much stronger since his defeat of the Guardians; people who didn't believe in him could sense his presence, even adults. The entire planet had felt the effects of the defeat of the Big Four, but the scope and scale of the change had admittedly been unexpected.

Well, the whole Hell invasion thing wasn't helping.

Pitch grinned toothily as he observed the effect he'd garnered, eyes roving leisurely over the street.

His eyes passed right over Jack, unseeing. Jack wondered idly if the Boogeyman would have recognized him, anyway. His hair was mostly brown now, but it was still white at the tips, giving it a frosted look. His eyes were heterochromatic; the right one was the same ice blue it had been when he was a spirit, but the left was the earthy brown of his human days. He still wore his blue hoodie, but he'd paired it with black jeans and a set of gray tennis shoes.

A nudge to his shoulder; Jack looked back to see Mei looking at him questioningly. He smiled, reaching up and scratching between her ears. Mei snorted, pleased, and lowered her head to give him better access. Jack continued for a few more seconds before climbing onto the bench, leaping into the saddle from there. He picked up the reins, clucking his tongue and squeezing lightly with his heels.

Mei leaped into the sky, moving at a steady canter. The break was nice, but they had work to do elsewhere.

* * *

Mei snorted, trotting after a flock of fleeing pigeons while Jack waved at Aditi and Solriss as they came in to land.

"Woohoo! Scotland! I love Scotland!" Aditi said, grinning ear to ear as her horse's hooves touched the tile. They were on the roof of a pub off the Royal Mile in Edinburgh.

"You were here just last week, lass," Solriss said as he dismounted, rubbing his horse's neck while she nosed his hair.

"I don't care; I love Scottish accents," Aditi said, practically hopping out of the saddle. Her horse immediately went to join Mei in the pigeon pursuit.

"How are things going on your fronts?" Jack asked. Both their faces fell instantly.

"Miserable," Aditi said.

"Not the word I would use," Solriss muttered.

"Absolutely horrendous? Abominable? Hideous?" Aditi said.

"About, yes."

Jack sighed. "Who else is on their way?"

"Yingxi, Ming, Cody, Maria… a whole host of others, basically. It's Halloween, there's supposed to be some pretty heavy patrolling up here," Solriss said.

"I don't see why," Aditi said, looking morosely at the street below. "No humans are out tonight; not even the youngsters."

Jack sighed again. "It's Pitch. He's made everyone too afraid to go trick-or-treating or go to parties or whatnot. People have barely even decorated this year."

The other two visibly deflated; Jack felt a pang of sympathy. Halloween was one of the biggest nights of the year for the Reapers, a night when they could have at least _some_ fun. To have it be so… lackluster had to suck, especially after all the hubbub of the last few years.

Then Jack brightened. "Hey, why don't we bring people outside?"

Confused looks from the other two.

"Come on! There's going to be a bunch of spirits out and about, and we'll all be more than able to make ourselves visible! Let's throw a huge Halloween party!"

Aditi and Solriss looked at him like he'd grown an extra pair of heads.

"For crying out loud, let's at least give it a try! Round up as many spirits as you can! I'm going to see if I can find Shuck and the _cat sidhe_!"

* * *

Death was soundly shocked (and _wow,_ he had not been able to say that for quite a while) when he reached the British Isles and found essentially the entire UK filled to bursting with spirits, fae folk and Reapers dancing and laughing together, fully visible to any who might pass. Of course, they had all toned down the ghostly and celestial appearances; they could pass for humans wearing exemplary makeup and costumes. If you didn't look too closely, at any rate.

And the humans… they seemed a livelier bunch than those he'd seen elsewhere in the past year. Indeed, some of the children had summoned up the courage to join the revelers. The faeries were absolutely loving it, letting the kids touch their wings and hair and spinning them about in the dance.

The Reapers and _cat sidhe_ thankfully knew to make sure no human ate any faery food, otherwise no one would be making it home tomorrow.

To be fair, this was the most attention the fae folk had gotten in close to a thousand years. It would be better if their first instinct wasn't to kidnap any human who captured their attention, though.

And it was no shock at all when he and his steed flew over Edinburgh to see Jack right in the thick of things, laughing and dancing to an old Scottish tune with a young human woman near the chapel of Edinburgh Castle.

Death and his horse landed out of sight, in the space between buildings near the Scottish War Museum. The entity dismounted, running his fingers through the horse's mane as he assumed a human form and strode just to the edge of the ring of lights.

He hadn't been standing there long when he noticed a girl, only around six or so, standing by the old stone wall. She was wearing a black and purple dress fashioned to look like spiderwebs and a green witch's hat. She was shifting from foot to foot, occasionally taking a step forward as if to join in, then stepping back and looking like she was trying to melt into the wall.

Death cocked his head, considering. Her soul was dimmer than was usual in children her age, but that had not been an uncommon sight these past few months. But there were sparks… tiny little things that spurred her to take those steps, but never quite enough to ignite a glow.

And then Jack was there, crouching in front of her, grinning like an idiot and asking her name - _Addison, really? That's my favorite name! –_ how old she was, what her costume was, did she know any cool witch stories?

Addison was smiling so widely her cheeks must have hurt. When Jack asked if she wanted to dance, though, it slipped from her face and she stared uncertainly at the crowd again. "I don't know how to dance."

There was a spark again. And it was staying.

"That doesn't matter! Everyone's just having fun!" Jack said. The girl shook her head.

"We're doing our dance unit in school; I can't do any of the moves and none of the boys can lead good. Peter says I look really stupid."

 _Oh, for crying out loud._

"I somehow doubt that," Death said. Both heads whipped toward him, Jack's jaw dropping in shock for a second. Death's focus, however, remained on the child.

"You won't look good the first time you try anything; it's a natural consequence of having no experience. If you would like to learn, I would be willing to teach you a few basic steps."

The girl blinked up at him, mouth hanging open slightly. She was looking a bit brighter now.

"Yeah, he's really good!" Jack said, undoubtedly picking up on the same thing. "He's an expert at, like, every single dance ever invented!" He grinned at Death. "No joke."

Death gave him a deadpan look. Jack smiled.

"Do you know the Foxtrot?" Addison asked, drawing the entity's attention back to her. "Mummy dances it with daddy sometimes, and she looks so pretty every time."

Death nodded, smiling as he held out his hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Giggling, Addison took his hand and let him lead her out onto the dance floor.

"Do you want to lead or follow?" Death asked.

"Lead," Addison said without missing a beat. Oh, yes, she was glowing now, and getting brighter by the second.

"All right. Then you are going to start off stepping forward with your left foot. Take two steps… yes, like that, and then step to the left and bring your feet together. Then you repeat those steps over again. Now, since you're leading, you hold my hands like this… Jack, if you try to trip me up I am going to hide Red's horse treats and tell him you did it."

* * *

 **Happy Halloween 2017! My costume this year was Morgoth; I made it myself and was very proud of it. If you don't know who that is, read the Silmarillion.  
**


End file.
